They say gray is only a color. I know better. Gray is the hush that lingers after laughter.
The chair nobody claims. The quiet side of the bed. The second cup of coffee never poured.
Gray is the echo of your footsteps in empty rooms, The soft imprint of your smile on silent mornings. It lingers in the spaces between words, A gentle reminder that absence can be full.
It slips into ordinary moments, settling softly between sunrise and dusk, wrapping itself around memories Too precious to release.
No one else can see it, I carry it everywhere. Time has softened the sharp edges. The tears no longer arrive without warning.
The ache has learned to whisper instead of shout. Yet love refuses to fade politely.
