Here’s to you, my friend,
A chapter closing, yet not an end.
For the words you stirred, the lines you sparked,
You breathed life into this weary hand.
Those nights that blurred to whispers and grins,
Laughing at nonsense, letting life in.
The echo of joy, the late-night spree,
Moments like that—etched endlessly.
I thank you now, as I always will,
For teaching me how the silence can still.
For lending me courage, a beacon of light,
For walking beside me through shadow and night
Now I wish you more than words can bear,
A life of peace, untainted by care.
No shadows, no noise, no echoes of strain,
Just sunlight to warm you, no sign of rain.
And maybe one day, when the world is still,
When broken dreams find time to heal,
You’ll return, as quietly as you came—
Familiar, unchanged—but never the same.
Until then, my friend, in your path you go,
The story continues, both of us know.
But in every letter, in each line I see,
There lies a part of you, a part of me.
Sara’s Secret Poem
After helping Heck publish his poem, I Love You Sunday Sunset, Sara quietly wrote one of her own—a secret farewell meant only for him. Unpublished and unread, it was her way of speaking the words she couldn’t bear to say aloud. This poem, raw and intimate, carries the weight of her goodbye as she prepares to leave for Paris, leaving a piece of herself behind with Heck.
Unpublished
"Goodnight, Sara. / 'Night, Heck"
by Justine Castellon and Mike Dee
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