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Once, we were the same body.

Same dirt under our fingernails.

Same laughter

spilling over like water from a glass too full.

Now,

you are a pin on a map I no longer fold.

A time zone I can’t call without counting hours on my fingers.

I watch your life bloom in pixels

your voice a caption,

your joy a mere snapshot.

Tell me,

does the past ever press its thumb to your ribs?

Do you wake,

sometimes,

reaching for a name

no longer in your mouth?

Or has time done what it does best

softened the edges,

turned us into something

round & distant,

like a moon we no longer look for?

Still,

I stay.

Holding the echoes,

turning them over,

like a coin too worn to spend.

You’ve found something new,

and here I am,

comparing all things new,

to you.

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