we were never a story,
only scattered lines,
moments so small
they might have gone unnoticed,
yet they stayed.
i did not see it then,
how your presence
shifted the air,
how the ordinary
felt touched with light.
now the memory arrives
like a gray horizon,
not storm, not sun,
just the tender weight
of something unfinished,
hovering in the sky of my soul.
you are a silence I keep,
a soft overcast
that lingers,
not asking to be spoken,
only to be remembered.