Too Late
You resist,
but you will remember me
with each fallen leaf,
each brittle crack beneath your feet.
You will see me in the dying light,
in the shadows that stretch too long,
and you will wish
you had held on tighter.
My eyes, open to light,
to the glisten of dew on blades of grass,
to the dance of shadows across the ground,
as if the earth itself breathes,
stretching, stirring,
and I am part of its waking,
alive in every quiet miracle,
every whisper of the world.
If only we could
chase the sunset
one last time
and be certain
of who you are to me
and who I am to you
then I can let go
as I know you have.
And we can carry on
with the night
apart, as it had been
cruelly written
Your absence pulls the world apart –
a thread unraveled from the fabric of the sky.
I search for you in the curve of the wind,
in the scent of rain,
in the way the earth turns, slow and steady,
but you are always beyond my reach,
like a flame that flickers
just before the dark swallows it whole.
Be grateful.
For the breath that fills your lungs,
for the silence that cradles your thoughts,
for the gift of this moment –
unpaid, unpromised,
but yours entirely.
Hair rose at the back of my neck as I wrote,
as if time itself
ran its fingers along my spine,
reminding me of what I could not outrun.
The ticking, louder now,
echoed in the quiet,
each beat a hammer,
each second a pulse I couldn’t ignore.
I’m sorry,
forgive me –
these words feel too small for the space between us,
but they are all I have.
I love you,
and with trembling hands,
I give you back to the universe,
with all the love,
all the gratitude
I can gather in this broken heart.
We only ever move forward, step by step,
leaving behind what was –
not in regret, but with a gentle nod,
as the sun tips over the edge of the world,
stretching shadows that grow long, then fade.
It boggles my mind,
how effortlessly he enters your space,
how your laughter fades,
just enough for me to notice.
You think I do not sense it,
the way your words twist
and reshape themselves around him,
like you are building a different world
when he is near,
one I cannot quite reach.
Yet every day,
he takes what should be mine,
his presence invisible,
but felt in every word,
every glance,
and I am left here,
waiting in the silence
for the pieces of you
that he hasn’t yet claimed.