I found him late;
beautiful voice,
handsome face,
every sound I ever wanted
already sung.

He seemed kind.
Alive.

Then I read the ending.
So young.
So long ago.

And I just sat there,
stupid,
like it still mattered.

I wish a day could stretch beyond its twenty-four hours;
allowing dawn to linger while I savour breakfast in calm;
no frantic check of time as I pour my tea;
no rush to dash for transport or meetings.

Morning light would flood my window long enough;
for slow stretches and thoughtful planning;
I'd arrive at work with minutes to spare;
settle into tasks without scrambling notes.

Lunch would become an unhurried affair;
a proper break with laughter that lasts;
afternoon hours would hum with clear focus;
projects advancing at a steady, unrushed pace.

Evening could unfold like a second dawn;
time to practise hobbies or wander with friends;
family dinners would not be a race against the clock;
conversations deepening as hours drift by.

Social outings need not end at curfew's chime;
late-night talks stretching into starlit freedom;
then at last I'd choose my rest: eight, ten, twelve hours;
each second mine, reclaimed from life's tight measure.

A brass barometer lives beneath my ribs;
its needle flutters at weather only I can feel.
Thoughts wind around repairs, loops of cause & cure,
tightening the unseen air.

I read distress through pressure in my chest,
a metric too subtle to name.
Surface remains stoic;
under that, doors open for the few I trust;
at the deepest layer rests indifference,
flat, still, holding every swell in place.

i ask him
what’s wrong

i tell him i’m here
that i will always support him
and the silence stretches
like fabric
thinned by too many washes,
too many wears

i say
i want to be there
but maybe the door is locked
or maybe it’s not a door at all
just a wall
painted to look like one

sometimes
i feel like a ghost in his world
hovering,
wishing he’d see me
noticing how often i check
if he saw
if he’s there
if i still matter

funny
how love turns your ribs into cages
and makes you ask questions
you hate yourself for asking

like
does he think of someone else
does he laugh harder
with someone else
does he hold
someone else closer
even when no one is touching him
does someone else make him
the happiest boy

he once said
i was too much
too close
too everything

and i try to be less
to shrink,
to vanish at the right times
but it still hurts
when he disappears before i do

there are gaps in our messages
and i read them
like tea leaves,
like grief,
like maybe he’s just tired
or maybe he’s tired of me

but still
i would sit in silence forever
if it meant he didn’t have to hurt alone
if it made him
the happiest boy

and i would leave his life
you know,
i would go in a breath
if it made him
the happiest boy

if it meant
he wouldn’t feel the way he does now
whatever way that is
whatever ache he won’t name

but i wish he’d let me stay
and i wish he’d tell me
and i wish i knew
whether i’m still
someone he’d wish to stay too

because even through all this
he is still the one
i would choose to care for
over and over again
even if it leaves me
nowhere at all

I ache to go back
but I’ve come too far.
What I miss
might undo
who I am.

I feel no pull to chase or build.
The life I want can’t start from here.
The path was clear, but I swept it away
By meddling till it disappeared.
It was made to be mine, I lost it in a day
I feel no pull to chase or build.
The life I want can’t start from here.