Author Information
You
I’ve seen women
with honey eyes
and velvet in their voice—
soft, but unyielding.
The kind of woman who could hush a storm
just by meaning what she says.
And you—
you never had to say it.
I knew.
The way your stare stayed a second too long,
like your soul forgot
we were pretending
We didn’t feel it.
There’s a distance between us
that never stops measuring.
A space that holds
everything we never got to be—
but still are.
We hardly touched,
but I still feel you.
In music.
In mirrors.
In moonlight.
In the way my breath catches
when I think of you without warning—
like some part of me
still answers to your name.
This isn’t longing.
This is recognition.
Like when we met,
and the memory of it
follows us here.
I think you feel it too—
in the quiet.
When no one’s looking
and your armor slips.
And I just want you to know:
I still dream of you
like it’s muscle memory.
Like my bones are homesick
for your hands.
Some nights,
you visit in silence.
No words—
just that look.
Like you remember too.
Like you ache
the same way I do,
quiet and constant.
I think we’ve done this before.
In another life,
In another skin,
another century,
another war we didn’t win.
I must’ve lost you once
and made a vow so loud
even time couldn’t forget it.
Maybe so I find you in every life time
We get.
Because here we are—
two souls
on opposite sides of the same flame.
I, holding the match.
You becoming the smoke.
I want lingering onto skin.
Maybe this is the kind of love
that’s too big for one lifetime.
Maybe that’s why we feel it
like a bruise beneath the ribs—
like a whisper between heartbeats.
I don’t need to hold you
to know you’re mine.
You live in the parts of me
no one else ever touches.
And if we never meet again
in this life—
I’ll still look for you
in the next.
And the next.
And the next.
