The Space Between

I begin with the stillness of your name

resting on my tongue,

a weight both fragile and unshakable.

The room feels smaller when I think of you,

as if even the walls lean closer,

eager to listen.

Your absence is not empty,

it hums,

it aches,

it fills the hours with the echo

of a touch I can almost feel.

I wait,

not idly,

but with every part of me leaning forward,

toward the certainty of you.

Yet something shifts,

quiet as a sigh that changes everything.

It isn’t about longing anymore.

Not about the distance or the ache.

It’s about knowing,

with a clarity that steadies my pulse,

that love is not measured in miles or minutes.

You are here,

whether across oceans or across the street,

because the thread between us

doesn’t stretch,

it holds.

It carries.

It reminds me that waiting

isn’t a pause,

it’s a promise.

So when the moment comes,

when your hand finds mine again,

I will not think of time wasted.

I will only marvel

at how every second apart

was simply leading me back

to the certainty of us.