Some nights,
it feels like I’m running out of air—
sinking slowly into the kind of quiet
that wraps around your chest
and doesn’t let go.

I reach for you in the stillness,
my hand stretching toward
a presence that isn’t there.
The space beside me answers
with nothing but still air.

The days are gentler.
They offer distractions—
tasks to complete, people to smile for,
moments that keep the ache at bay.

But the nights?
They are heavy.
They close in like water,
and every thought grows louder,
shouting in the silence.

Memories rise like waves.
And I can’t stop myself
from wondering—
do you ever lie awake,
missing me too?