We used to speak in a language made of light,
No sentence finished,
for the thought was known
Before it reached the air.
Through half the night,
We reaped the harvest of the seeds we’d sown
In childhood dreams and fears we dared not name—
The world was wide, and we were much the same.
Now, we trade the weather like a heavy coin,
Tossing "how are yous" across a growing space.
The jagged edges where our lives would join
Have smoothed into a polite and steady pace.
I miss the messy heat of long debates,
The way we’d linger at each other’s eyes.
I miss the "did you see?" and "can you feel?"
I’m searching for the frequency we knew—
The old, loud, honest melody of ours.
-
Author:
fikrioshin (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: January 21st, 2026 07:16
- Category: Friendship
- Views: 8
Offline)
Comments1
As distance grows so does formal politeness that is cold in its smiles. A wonderful poem based on the heat of a relationship now cold ash.
You’ve captured the essence of it perfectly. The 'cold smile' is often the hardest part of a distance that can't be measured in miles.
I've seen a few
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