If the sky is all I have, then the clouds would be my home.
If I wasn’t me, I wouldn’t have thoughts of you. The thought is all I’ve got. I stare into the sky, and with its faceless eyes, stars dotted, strung like lights to nowhere, everywhere, you see me there.
This great cycle of birth and death, of seasons circling around, like clocks ticking their beating heart, is merely time without you now. Neither the stars, nor clocks, or time seem to mind, we are apart. We walk and talk and write and work as if neither has knowledge the other ever existed.
Somedays, the sky is all I have.