And Yet, I Am.

One day, I will vanish.

The sky will stretch the same, golden and wide, but I won’t be under it.
No birdsong will reach me. No warmth will touch my face.
The songs I loved will still echo through other speakers, but not mine.
My thoughts — so sharp, strange, and specific — will dissolve like smoke,
and no one will ever think them again.

There will be no more peaches in July.
No more night walks barefoot across cool tile.
No more staring at the stars until they blur and believing, just for a second,
that maybe I came from one.

And yet…
Tonight, I am here.

Tonight, I hear a song that makes my heart ache.
Tonight, the air is soft on my skin.
Tonight, I am full of thoughts no one else will ever have.
And that is a kind of forever.

It hurts because it matters.
It matters because it ends.

So I’ll let this moment bloom like a flower I cannot keep.
I will live — deeply, painfully, joyfully — because I know I won’t always be able to.

One day, I will vanish.
But not tonight.
Tonight, I am.
And that is enough.