I take pictures of myself against the backdrop of the city in which we met.
I find comfort in its stillness and the phosphorescent sky mumbling radiance.

Your phantom exists somewhere in the background of my pictures
while I stand there, full focus, spotlighted: a faucet leaking an array of “I miss you.”

In these pictures I hear your whispers, where I can tangibly pick them up and absorb them while your presence is missing from real life.  In this still life, you are faintly reminiscent like a harmonic wave:

Subtle, inviting, and there to complete our orchestrated union.

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