Three days—
    but not like before.

Not anticipation,
    but a quiet dread,

    each hour measured in what's left…
                                      not what's coming.

The countdown reversed,
    numbers ticking away,
    reminding me angrily,

    that soon I'll have to leave…

    the one place I've truly wanted to stay. (in a long, long time)

Every laugh is priceless now.
    Every touch feels urgent,
       every silence heavier—

    because we're counting backward,
                    holding tighter,

    trying to stretch time until it breaks.

Now each goodbye—
    feels harder,
    each return uncertain,

    making these moments feel fragile and sacred.

Three days—
    not enough,
    never enough,
    just moments left—

    to store up,
    to memorize,
    to carry home…

    and keep us warm until I'm back again.