I don’t remember what you said.
Not exactly.
Maybe not at all.

But I remember
how your voice
  lowered
  when you said it.

How it curled slightly
  at the edge,
 like a question
 that wasn’t safe to ask
 out loud.

Some conversations
leave no quotes.
No lines to repeat.

Just a hum.
A pressure.
The sense that something
 shifted.
Without needing a name.

I’ve forgotten stories.
Entire rooms of meaning.
But I haven’t forgotten
 the way you sounded
  when you almost broke.

Or when you didn’t.

Tone is the body of language.
It carries what words can’t.

And maybe
what we really remember
 is not what we heard
 but what we felt
 when we were listening.

as i look through my window
i cannot find his light
he’s nowhere to be seen
i’m all alone tonight

his presence calmed me
silent and serene
his warm yellow shine  
a sight unseen

oh please come back soon
i miss you so much
i’m off to bed now
please stay in touch

I think
the world
needs
more
of us
than we
can offer

These words are for me,
For I'm the one who's hurting,
I'm just healing myself.

Talking to you
Sometimes
Is like screaming
To the wind
Touching mist
In one ear
Past a space
Out the other

I try to speak
Nothing sticks
I am mute
So it seems
Why is this?

I have found
Little things
Poems I wrote
Years ago
Where I found
The same thing

I cry out
To you dear
What response
Do I hear?