Time drags its rusted teeth through the hours, carving paths I cannot follow.

Four years of severed threads, of reaching through fractures

where hands do not meet, where silence swallows what should have been.

You were small when I last held you, a weight I could carry, a warmth that fit inside my ribs.

Now you rise beyond the edges of my sight, a fire flickering in a room I cannot enter, a voice carried by winds that never return.

The world is made of locks, of distances built like cathedrals to the absent.

I have screamed at stone, at glass, at paper, at laws that wear no faces, at names that do not bleed.

I have torn at the seams of waiting, but limbo does not break"

it only watches.

Still, I dream in hunger, in fractures of light.

A moment where your name is more than a ghost in my mouth, where your laughter does not stretch through wires, through time, through static.

One day, I will stand beside you, not as a flicker, not as a whisper, but as something real, something whole.

Until then, I build futures in the dark, lay bricks in rooms I have never seen, sculpt a life that may never know me.

No force can break what is already broken.
No distance can erase what is already fading.