We began as strangers,
soft collisions in the quiet—
a glance,
a laugh,
a brush of air between us.
I traced the curve of something
that almost was,
afraid to name it,
afraid to break it.
So I held my heart in silence,
loving you where you’d never see.
Every moment pulled me closer—
yet you stayed just far enough
that I could never touch you,
never know if you ever turned toward me.
And maybe it was just me—
the only one who fell,
the only one who waited
for a sign that never came.
And some nights,
when the world is quiet,
it crushes me—
the thought that you must have known,
that you must have felt
the tremor of my heart
and still chose the silence.
My heart broke
not from rejection,
but from the way
we both turned away,
pretending not to see
what hung between us.
Now we are strangers again,
but strangers with memories—
memories that stalk me
like a shadow with teeth,
gnawing at the quiet,
reminding me
that we were once
so close—
and maybe,
somewhere,
still are.
And in the dark,
I hate that a part of me
is still waiting for you.
It's been a long time...
just dumping this here while I let myself marinate in this feeling (yeah, I’m relapsing) HAHAHA
