i get uncomfortable when someone cries
not the usual kind shifting feet eyes darting away
but the kind that settles in the ribs like a cold ache
like something is carving a hollow in my chest with bare hands

i want to reach out
say it’ll be okay
wrap the air around them like a blanket
but their pain is a country i don’t have a map for
i can’t walk their road i only know how it looks from where i stand

and that’s the worst part
that i’ll never know their grief exactly
only my version of it
only my helpless echo of what they must feel

i remember the night
the room was dim not dark enough to hide in
just soft enough to make everything feel more fragile
they sat on the edge of the bed
eyes red voice cracking on a name they couldn’t finish

i didn’t know what to do with my hands
i thought about reaching for theirs
but something in me froze
not fear not shame just that aching awareness
that nothing i could say would unbreak what broke them

so i just sat there
and the silence between us grew heavy
like grief had a body and it chose to lie down between us

and all i could think was
i wish i could wear their pain for a day
just long enough to understand it
just long enough to make them feel a little less alone

but all i had was my version
my own memories dressed in different names
and in that moment it didn’t feel like enough