The subtle flutter of time’s wings cannot move me. Regardless of how far one person’s boat of a body drifts from mine, fragments of their love will be carried with me across the sea. Some things (their whispers with dawn’s onset, petal-soft kisses behind my kneecaps, the way they’d pour rooibos tea) are wedged so deeply between the velveteen crevices of my heart’s interior that no amount of digging will set them free. Use these words for comfort: You will not be forgotten.