20/02/2026
The field is wide and amber,
the kind that swallows sound.
I walk through it alone,
hands in my pockets against the cooling air.
There’s no map for this stretch of road,
no sign promising how far it goes.
Just tall grass brushing my legs
and a sky that doesn’t answer back.
A dark balloon drifts above me,
heart-shaped but heavy in color.
It follows like a shadow
I can’t quite shake.
Grief isn’t dramatic out here.
It’s steady footsteps,
one in front of the other,
through evenings that look like this.
Friends wait at the edges of the field,
kind but distant.
They can wave from afar,
but they can’t walk this path for me.
The sun lowers without asking permission,
turning everything gold and then gray.
I keep moving,
because stopping only makes the silence louder.
This is the loneliest road, yes,
but it’s also proof of love—
that someone mattered enough
to leave such a long stretch behind them.
—The Love I Lost