i exist in this type of bliss
where mountains move
and i transcend into little bits
of words that were said
sentences that linger
and fill the thoughts
of everything i never had the chance to say
like pieces of conversation
still waiting for somewhere to land
like echoes finding walls
in rooms we never entered
i live in this
where it sits
at the top of my head
and i resist
all the things i wanted to say
words like poetry
on the tip of my tongue
twisting around themselves
until you feel something
until the silence becomes louder
than what i could have said
and i wonder if you heard it anyway
in the pauses
in the way my eyes stayed
a little longer than they should
i make movement in this
between what was real
and what i gave meaning to
the little details
the way your hands moved
the sound of your voice changing
when the night became quieter
how something so small
could become so large
once i carried it home
and i make a wish
for myself at night
to remember how it feels to love like this
the pull of something so close
without knowing where it could go
the feeling of standing beside a door
without knowing what lives behind it
and you say what you can
and i say what you will not
like two sides of a conversation
trying to meet somewhere in the middle
but time keeps moving
and the middle keeps changing
i find you in moments
where you do not exist
in the wind against my window
in songs playing from other rooms
in the color of evening
when everything turns soft
and for a second
i can almost understand
why some people stay with us
without ever really staying
i miss you
like bits and pieces
of things i never had the chance
to experience
the nights that never happened
the places we never went
the mornings that never knew us
the touch that only lived
for as long as we allowed it
the warmth of something
that never had enough time
to become what it could
and that is a strange thing
to miss what never happened
to remember what never existed
to feel nostalgia for a life
i never actually lived
but i think the heart does this
it creates rooms from empty space
puts flowers on tables
opens windows to mornings
that never came
and somehow i can walk through them
like i had been there before
i feel you in this
not as something i need
but something i knew
for just enough time
to remind me how deeply
i could still feel
and maybe that was the beauty
maybe i was never supposed
to have all of it
maybe some people arrive
only long enough
to wake something inside us
that had been sleeping
because what happened
eventually finds somewhere to rest
it becomes a date
a place
a memory we can point toward
but what never happened
has nowhere to go
so it keeps moving
through mountains in the distance
through words on the tip of my tongue
through nights where i still wonder
what you might have said
if time had given us
just a little more of itself
and i let it move through me
because everything i could have loved
does not need to become mine
to have meant something
sometimes it only needs
to pass through
to touch
to linger
to leave
and remind me
i was still capable
of feeling it at all
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