I am homesick for a place
that never learned how to stay.
A quiet corner of time
where your laugh didn’t leave echoes behind.
I reach for it in ordinary things,
in the pause between songs,
in the side of the bed that still feels borrowed,
in the way my hands forget they’re empty.
But it isn’t there.
It never was, not fully.
Just fragments dressed as forever,
just moments pretending to be a life.
And you,
you are becoming something distant,
a name I say less often,
a memory that no longer answers back.
I am still learning how to miss you
without searching for you,
still learning how to let absence
be only absence.
Because what I long for
isn’t you as you are now,
it’s who we almost were,
in a place that never existed.