I notice:
...Bright yellow flowers on a sunny day in a wide open field.
...The subtle smirk and eyes that convey more than words ever could.
...Quiet evenings when even my own thoughts pause like a held breath, and for a brief moment in time, I catch a glimpse of peace.

I notice:
...Pain that seems to come from nowhere and everywhere at once, landing on a runway that's too short to catch it before it crashes.
...The way falling rain reminds me of tears I haven't cried yet, gathering in the clouds in my mind, trickling down before a storm.
...Waves carried to the shore, making the sound that they do, that I can hear whenever I listen the silence that holds my own breath.

I notice:
...That I miss you even before you leave, like the vertigo and weight of the ground giving way to gravity, under the unbearable load of your silence.
...The way a cardinal catches my eye in the morning, like a bright red paper airplane soaring past the window I stare out most days, as if I'll find the answer out there to the persistent question of why I still exist.
...The way I ask myself why I still exist when you're not here.
...The way the question evokes just as much pain as a red paper airplane trying to land on a runway that's too short.
...The way quiet evenings should feel like peace, but feel like the pain of watching an airplane as it crashes into a field of bright yellow flowers in silence, like the silence ringing in my ears when you leave, and I'm still here.