you’re the calm in my chaos,
the steady in my storm.

words from you
feel earned

you don’t flood me with noise
but when you speak
each word carries weight
given carefully,
never lightly.

you leaned over
your sleeve brushing mine.
the lanyard hung from your neck,
your shirt a little too neat.
   mine untucked;
      a little too messy.

red ink
   trailing
from your pen
to my paper,
marking it carefully.

it shifted
so i pressed my hand down,
close to yours,
close enough.

you kept writing.
i kept still.
we said nothing.
but the silence
felt full,
closer than touch.

she's here,
   in the photograph on my desk,
but not here at all.
   she's there with me
   frozen in a moment
   before it all slipped away.

i trail
   my fingers
      over the glass,

and wonder if it was ever real.
the way we were,
   before the knife went in.
   before she twisted it
   and let me bleed out
   instead of offering
   a hand.

i can’t shake the feeling
      that she’s still here,
             though she never will be again.