When you go quiet, the room grows larger, and every shadow asks your name. I wonder if I was a momen…
When you go quiet, the room grows larger, and every shadow asks your name. I wonder if I was a moment to you, or a story you never meant to finish. Did I matter, or was I just passing time in the spaces between your storms? Was this real, or did I mistake your warmth for something that would stay? I replay the echoes, searching for truth— not the kind spoken aloud, but the kind revealed in absence. If I was a game, I hope you at least remember the way I tried to play with an open heart. And if I wasn’t— if something in you once reached for me— then let that be enough to close this ache, even if you never say a word.
