This is the way I speak to you now
through a place you always look
to watch my thoughts without hearing me.
We orbit the same sentence
back and forth like a bad habit.
I slip, you teach me guilt.
I fold, still standing anyway.
You slip, and somehow
it is the same lesson again.
Nothing ever lands
everything ricochets.
We know the choreography by heart
mistake, accusation, defense, silence
repeat until tenderness forgets
its own name.
I say too much
you hear too little
we both keep score like it will save us.
This is not distance
it is a loop
and we are very good
at going nowhere.
Some things do not fail loudly
they just refuse to become.
Jan 25
Jan 25, 2026 at 5:39 AM UTC
This is the way I speak to you now
through a place you always look
to watch my thoughts without hearing me.
We orbit the same sentence
back and forth like a bad habit.
I slip, you teach me guilt.
I fold, still standing anyway.
You slip, and somehow
it is the same lesson again.
Nothing ever lands
everything ricochets.
We know the choreography by heart
mistake, accusation, defense, silence
repeat until tenderness forgets
its own name.
I say too much
you hear too little
we both keep score like it will save us.
This is not distance
it is a loop
and we are very good
at going nowhere.
Some things do not fail loudly
they just refuse to become.
