some days it feels like my tongue
still bears your syllables
more than the body ever lived,
as if time bends itself—
wrapping around the hours
that refused to die
can language ever touch
the weight of love we bury inside?
when everything we didn’t say
begins to echo back at me,
the silence grows a spine,
leans into my shadow
that still knows your pulse,
and follows me everywhere
now i have to remember you
for longer than i have known you