“and autumn comes when you’re not yet done with the summer passing by”

Mitski, “Francis Forever”

I’m begging God to slow time. Drag the clock, please; curb my insatiable appetite for speed. I’ve been beseeching the universe to make me painfully aware of every small moment slipping between my fingers before they’re all gone for good. Seasons pass without warning or indication and I’m not ready for the end of this one. There is a finite space between every dawn and dusk. Every birth and death. Every departure and destination. Only until it is gone do we realize the significance of the going. I should have loved you more if I knew I’d have to stop one day. I should have admired the autumn for a few more afternoons before the bright orange skyline would inevitably fade. I should have savored the present. Held more hands. Kissed deeper. Melted over the sweet nothings: precious company, full tables, easy conversation. Expressed my care. Spoken up. Said what I wanted to say but never did, the words spilling out without walls.

A prayer.

Let me get there gradually. Let me let it all go, piece by piece and unhurried, without the blunt sensation of being ripped out of a safe womb. Let it be a steady goodbye– a slow burn, a softer pain.

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