The sun will dissipate any trace of her memory, so much so that you'll think you've been healed, but you'll think of her when it rains.

He was like rain, a subtle nudge to the soul. He arrived quietly, often without warning. At times he'd trickle slowly through her mind, a gentle passing, but before she could run for cover she'd find herself drowning in his memory, flooded with heartache all over again.

And in the August rain, the pavement shimmered. And in that moment, if just for that night, all was right in the world.

And although I tried to forget you to survive, sometimes the memory of you was the only thing that made me feel alive.

The truth be told, the ones we love are never truly lost, they never leave us. Instead they transform into a quiet breeze, a gentle rain, a setting sun and a waking moon. And if you choose to accept them in their changing forms, they'll forever live amongst the stars.

And underneath the harvest moon she hummed the tune of a distant lullaby, reminding her the heart was nothing more than a setting sun preparing for a glowing consummation.