The thought of your face
hovers at the edge of the table,
a quiet heat
softening yesterday
and folding into my breakfast plate.
I stay with you
until the ground beneath us
decides to move,
until the small rituals of living
push the world out of my hands.
you stay threaded through
every motion,
everything i can think or
feel.
when my eyes close,
the air rearranges;
you become a lesson
in a language i almost remember,
something else, something new,
(something borrowed, something blue).
your outline drifts through my dreams,
through the stillness of photographs.
i catch my own reflection there
a version of me suspended
in the moment you were still you.
a version of me
that
left with you too.
Mar 8
Mar 8, 2026 at 5:08 PM UTC
The thought of your face
hovers at the edge of the table,
a quiet heat
softening yesterday
and folding into my breakfast plate.
I stay with you
until the ground beneath us
decides to move,
until the small rituals of living
push the world out of my hands.
you stay threaded through
every motion,
everything i can think or
feel.
when my eyes close,
the air rearranges;
you become a lesson
in a language i almost remember,
something else, something new,
(something borrowed, something blue).
your outline drifts through my dreams,
through the stillness of photographs.
i catch my own reflection there
a version of me suspended
in the moment you were still you.
a version of me
that
left with you too.
