—

not hidden —
 just almost named.
a word once spoken
   and then reclaimed.

a dress
 that whispered yes
in the quiet
 where others said less.

•

“if you were…” —
 they laughed.
but someone didn’t.
and that
 was the draft
that fed the flame.

•

hands — not claiming,
just
 staying.
a gaze — not fire,
but wind
 that stayed
 despite no reason to linger.

•

a room —
no titles.
just cloth.
just weight.
just being still
 without asking for death.

•

soap by the bed.
not promise —
 but place.
a shirt.
a look.
a shoulder of grace.

•

the question not asked
 waited —
and waited —
until it became
  an answer
    without sound.

•

sometimes,
 a dream:
not a mirror —
but a face in glass.
no shame.
just lips moving —
  “you have a beautiful name.”

•

she wasn’t here.
he wasn’t there.
it wasn’t that.
just —
 the way a hand
  can hold silence
   without asking it
    what it means.

•

not touched —
   but kept.
not girl —
   but depth.
not afraid —
just late
 to being seen
as already enough.

•

don’t ask:
 “which side?”
don’t map:
 “what shape?”
just sit.
be quiet.
and call it
 what it is:
light.

—