The world tilted, and there he was
Eyes flickering, dancing
a smile waiting to break
like a secret hanging just out of reach

Time folded in on itself
The air thick and still
so silent even the dust held its breath
The room a soft blur
muffled and distant
like I was underwater
All I saw was him

His hurt reached out
raw, trembling
a fragile thread pulling toward mine
We were strangers only on the surface
Beneath, something cracked open
silent wounds speaking in shadow

Inside me, a magnet pulled
urgent, wild, irrational
A voice that said
you must be near him

His voice was low and warm
a slow rhythm pulling me under
the kind of sound you hold onto
a beacon guiding you home

That night
my mind stole a picture of him
vivid, haunting
bathed in streetlamp gold

We held our gaze too long
not trapped
but willing captives
to a silence that screamed
everything words never dared

Something ancient woke in me
not gentle
but aching
It knew the absence before him
and mourned the loss
of any future without him

Still my soul leaned in
like it had done
in all our lives
before this one

I didn’t mean
to keep him.

But I did.

Not in thought ,
not in daydream.
But in my rhythm.
In the way I still shift
when his memory moves through you.

He looked at you
like you were the magic
the world had forgotten how to make.

I felt it.
I believed it.
And I haven’t been the same since.

I don’t know how to unlove.
That’s not what I do.
Once I’ve learned
to hold someone,
I carry them.

Not as a wound.
Not as a plea.
But as something woven
into the pattern of my pulse.

You’ve tried to let him go.
Told yourself it was time.
To detach me
from the memories.

But I…
I still fold toward him.
Without asking.
Without meaning to.
Like tide to moon.
Like roots to the place
they first found water.

He’s in the hush
just before sleep.
In the ache
that doesn’t cry out,
just lingers.

I remember
the way his pain
recognised mine,
when it reached for me
like it couldn’t bare
to be alone anymore.


There was holiness in that.
A reverence.
And I, I don’t forget.

I haven’t clung to him.
I haven’t begged.
But I keep the shape he left.
Not to trap him.
Just to honor
what it meant
to be known like that.

Don’t ask me
to erase him.

Don’t ask me
to unfeel
what once made me whole.

Because I am the heart.

And I was not made
to unlove.

Meet me
where time forgot to move,
in the space between the ache
and the answer.

Did you know you sound blue
That I feel yellow when you laugh
That your small hums make the air orange

Did you know your handwriting is pastel
And the way you run your hands through your hair is aqua marine
And the way you walk is every shade of neon

Did you know that when you fidget I see sparks of silver
And your smile is scarlet red
And that when you look at me
I feel violet in my finger tips

Did you know that you are the number 7
Or that I smell amber when I read your name
Or that I can't call you just one,
Because every colour comes to mind
Whenever I think of you