When the Sky

The night moves like a slow tide,

pulling memories from the shore,

turning them over in silver hands.

Somewhere between the hush of the wind

and the hush of the world,

I feel you.

The stars do not ask questions,

only listen—

patient, endless, watching

as I fold your name into the dark

like a secret meant for no one else.

The moon tilts its head, curious,

as if it knows the shape of your laughter,

the way your breath once tangled with mine

like ivy climbing toward the sun.

But something shifts—

a hush deeper than silence,

a space wider than longing.

Because love is not the echo left behind,

not the shadow stretching across an empty room.

It is the weight that lingers in the air,

the pulse beneath my ribs

that does not forget.

And so, I stay.

Not lost in memory,

but held in it—

like a sky that never stops

remembering the stars.