I’am awake, reaching for a voice that taught me silence was safer. The scars don’t show, but the floorboards remember every step I learned to take without sound.
You forget where you put your keys and I forget how to breathe when you leave the room too long. I smile, say it’s nothing, then spend the night measuring the distance between your laugh and the door. One wrong word and the walls tilt. One kind one and I’m already bracing for when it disappears. We break each other beautifully.
You chase the next bright thing, I chase the fear that you’ll finally see what’s underneath. And still we orbit — two broken clocks keeping time in the same house, just ticking…
Some nights I almost tell you about the boy who learned love was something you survive, not something you keep. But the words sit heavy in my chest, small gods I’m too afraid to release. So I hold you instead, breathing in your chaos like it might save me from my own.
Some doors you close, others close you. And here we are — you losing hours in a single spark of an idea, me losing myself in the spaces between your words. We keep reaching anyway. Maybe that’s the only thing we ever really got right.
The only souls who could finish each other complete each other…fading but worth fighting for…
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