You’re leaving. Going to a land across the seas, where my sun will rise earlier than your sun, my moon will bid me good night earlier than your satellite. You’re leaving and I want you to go, to see the world in bolder colors, to make the future brighter for us. You will be missed but don’t let me hold you back. Go. It’s painful; I know you’re leaving soon. But it’s okay. ‘Cause when you go, I know you’re not leaving me.
(writing practice inspired by unphotographable.com)