I am holding a love
with no destination.
It floods me without warning,
fills me with purpose,
With all the fire of arrival, and nothing waiting on the other side.

No, he is not
waiting at the gate.
He’s nowhere.
And this love,
it’s too vast for my body,
too loud for sleep,
too loyal
to walk away.

This grief,
this relentless, boundless
love was meant to land
in his heart.
Always.
Instead it circles inside me,
wings beating
against bone,
a bird
that can’t find
a place to perch.

I can’t destroy it.
I won’t.
It’s the last thing I have
that still knows
his shape.

But it’s heavy.
It trembles.
It begs for release.
And I am breaking
under the weight
of what cannot be given.