It's been 329 days. 327 from the day I found out.

and I've been keeping count

327 nights wishing that the stars could exhale enough breath to bring you back.

Only 36 days until the sun(son) will have traveled it's full course completing this entire year of eyelash wishes hoping that your head rested comfortably on pillowcases of perfect mornings, that your feet were well traveled, and that your heart was full before that day -329 from now.

Digits, only numbers. No measurement of how I should have healed by now.

Impossible to recount the seconds with empty hands.

I've spend the last year hoping the sun could inhale and take me with you because forever now you've existed in the sunrise and set each day before that 329th and every single second after.

It was somewhere between infinity and fractions of feelings I can't connect with now. Knowing forever can't be calculated. There is no number to tag to the day you won't return and I can't comprehend any of this so I keep a tally of the days that go by and the nights where the stars are still breathing.