It almost seems like a secret tradition (that you don't celebrate). It's like I could summon your presence for a mere couple seconds as you pass my house. I can fantasize about you looking in my window as I cover my eyelids in vibrant reds. I hope you think about how beautiful I was inside and out and miss me. I still miss you.

I'd like to think you happen to pass the window because of me. Sometimes I think I sit in the window with a mirror in front of me so I could see you walk to me one last time.