A Sun That Doesn’t Hurt

We used to walk inside the quiet of evening, when the sun spilled gold across my face. You noticed— moved a little closer, your body standing between me and the light. Back then, that small shadow made my cheeks burn. I thought tenderness lived in that gesture. Years slipped away. So did you. Now the sunlight falls on me without interruption— wide, unguarded, whole. And strangely, it does not carry your memory anymore. It does not bother me