It didn’t happen.
But it could have.

And that “could”
  still glows
    in the dark of me.

We never kissed.
But there was a second
 when your breath
 found mine
  not touching,
  just measuring the space
  where it might.

That second
  lasted longer
  than entire nights.

We didn’t say it.
But the air between us
  knew.
Not the meaning,
  but the weight.

And maybe
that’s the truest kind of intimacy -
the one that doesn’t insist,
  just lingers.

What didn’t unfold
  still forms me.
Not as memory,
but as shape.

A bend in how I move.
A shadow I do not fear.
A pause
  I’ve learned to live inside.

I’m crazy enough to like you
Even though you hate me
Hate is a strong word
Like the love I feel inside me

I try to stop the feeling
But it comes back stronger
I just want it to stop
I don't want it any longer

I know my feelings are a burden to you
So I try to hide it
This one sided love will stay as is
Because you can’t commit

Twilight blue rebounds behind
A great ridge of color
Calling for man
To stand before the night

From a distance
Quiet but restless
The brazen foliage always falls
Darkness follows every time

She was drawing,
not for anyone.
Not even for herself.

Just…
  because her hands needed to move.
The pencil didn’t ask for approval.
It didn’t perform.
It just followed
 whatever was humming
  beneath her skin.

I’ve seen someone dance
 in the middle of cleaning.
Not to music.
Just to rhythm.

A private conversation
 between body and gravity
     where
      I was only
       accidentally
             invited.

There’s a holiness
 in the movements people make
  when they don’t know they’re being seen.

Not holy because they’re beautiful.
But because they’re untranslated.

They’re not trying to mean something.
They just are.

I’ve started collecting these moments.
Not in pictures.
Not in notes.
Just
  in the place behind my ribs
  where wonder stays
  when it’s too quiet to name.

You'll never know
That you taught me
Why people say they are "falling for someone"
When they talk about attraction

All it took was a smile
So Genuine
So Honest
So Peaceful

To feel unexpected excitement
The happy drop of my stomach
Like I'm on a rollercoaster
Or jumping off a cliff

And I knew
That I'm falling
For You

I've lost your voice.
The world has gone silent.
All I hear are endless
echos bouncing from the walls of my mind.
I only wish to hear it
One last time.

Long after the music ends,
 the body remembers.

Not the melody
 but the weight of it.
Where the shoulders softened.
Where the fingers held a pause.
Where breath curled around a silence
  and didn’t let go.

The body doesn’t archive like the mind.
It doesn’t recall in sequence.
It remembers in tension.
In residue.
In the way your spine knows
  when something is about to fall.
In the twitch that follows
  a note that’s already gone.

Sometimes, I move like something
  I once heard.
Not consciously.
Just
  a rhythm finds my step
      years later
      and walks me home.

There are gestures
  I no longer know the names for
 but my body still offers them
  like a language it trusts
      more than thought.

Maybe this is how memory stays kind:
  not by being exact,
  but by letting itself
    be danced.