There라이브 바카라 a corner in my heart
where you still live.
Not in the way of familiar laughter
that I can measure
or hands I can hold;
but like warm dents on pillows
and echoes lingering long after
a symphony ends.
We’ve been silent for years.
Or rather, time has been silent for us.
Still, I carry you with me,
like a letter I shall never send;
like a song I often hum in the back of my mind,
without recalling when I learned the tune.
Isn’t it incredible, how
some connections do not demand proximity;
how affection does not bother to be labelled!
Not that you need to know this, but
I have thought of you in places where you will never be;
in rooms I have never spoken your name.
This maybe ‘it’, but ‘it’ is enough.
May be the gravity of my own tenderness
is all the impetus I need;
a quiet astonishment at my own
capacity to preserve without bitterness
and to hold on to love without the
desire for reciprocity.
What is lost when nothing was taken?
I will continue to rejoice
the sweetness of this profound absence;
where distance will never mean ‘gone’.
