A Final Toast

Short piece - sad piece warning.

I’ll miss this place.
I think of it now–
nothing has changed.

The same streets carry strangers.
The same windows glow at night.
The same stars still hang above the rooftops,
waiting for someone to marvel at their light.

I’ve cried enough.
Most nights went numb–
then daylight crept in;
and mornings became a promise
that was too painful to keep.

I remember believing
there would always be more.
Another birthday.
Another winter.
Another spring
worth waiting for.

I miss that piece of me,
that chased sunsets,
made wishes on shooting stars,
and found magic in ordinary things.

Once the silence settled,
it twisted into pain–
into a beautiful tragedy;
a life once hopeful — gone insane.

Parting is such sweet sorrow–
so here’s to the final glass,
raised high to the stars–
a toast to the soul I thought would last.

Let the wind remember my name,
if no one else can.
Let this piece of me end before
the pain of tomorrow
finishes what sadness began.

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