the nights are longer now,
even though the clock says they’re the same.
the air feels heavier,
like it knows I’m here
alone.

there’s a hole where her laugh used to be,
where her smell lingered on my shirt,
and where her voice
turned this place
into something that felt
alive.

I reach for her in the dark,
not to find her—
I know she’s not there—
but to remind myself
I ever held her at all.