We carry whole worlds
inside unfinished sentences.
A flicker of fluorescent light,
winter breath against a windshield,
your laughter spilling sideways
before the punchline ever arrives.
There are ghosts of moments
hidden in the smallest things
a cup forgotten in the cupholder,
one wrong lyric,
the tilt of your mouth
when memory taps your shoulder.
And suddenly
the room is glowing again,
soft as neon on wet pavement,
while everyone around us
mistakes our laughter for coincidence.