your name reverberates
like a hot ocean wave
of all drowning reminiscences
as it rolls off my tongue.
it leaves a familiar burn
as if a rough, estranged sound
carelessly tumbling down
from the chaos of a senseless prayer.
I almost loved you, John.
I almost loved the way your hands
played a sweet,
flaming rhythm against my skin,
the way your voice hummed a song
that has learned how to
subdue the loud shaking of my fears.
honey, it still hums in my room.
I still hear its hard edges
slide across the sheets.
the sinuous curves of it.
the firm tone of your memory
that still lingers in quiet spaces
of the words you left hanging in the air —
like the questions I never answered right.
I almost loved you, John.
and you almost stayed, too.
the way my pillows echo a memory
through my head in the night
leaves a hushed, undying ache
that settles in the hollows of my chest.
it loops in the dark
like a petty song
that has never learned how to stop.
it stings.
it fractures,
longing to breathe you back
until the melody forgets its own mercy.
but you never really left.
because you see,
your ghost still wanders aimlessly here.
and even though my heart
has already strayed too far
from all of your forced heartbeats,
sometimes, I still wonder
did you almost love me, too?
Apr 25
Apr 25, 2026 at 3:17 PM UTC
your name reverberates
like a hot ocean wave
of all drowning reminiscences
as it rolls off my tongue.
it leaves a familiar burn
as if a rough, estranged sound
carelessly tumbling down
from the chaos of a senseless prayer.
I almost loved you, John.
I almost loved the way your hands
played a sweet,
flaming rhythm against my skin,
the way your voice hummed a song
that has learned how to
subdue the loud shaking of my fears.
honey, it still hums in my room.
I still hear its hard edges
slide across the sheets.
the sinuous curves of it.
the firm tone of your memory
that still lingers in quiet spaces
of the words you left hanging in the air —
like the questions I never answered right.
I almost loved you, John.
and you almost stayed, too.
the way my pillows echo a memory
through my head in the night
leaves a hushed, undying ache
that settles in the hollows of my chest.
it loops in the dark
like a petty song
that has never learned how to stop.
it stings.
it fractures,
longing to breathe you back
until the melody forgets its own mercy.
but you never really left.
because you see,
your ghost still wanders aimlessly here.
and even though my heart
has already strayed too far
from all of your forced heartbeats,
sometimes, I still wonder
did you almost love me, too?
