It’s strange, isn’t it?

How something unseen can feel so heavy,
how I find traces of you
in the dusty hollows of my thoughts,
stitched into the small spaces,
the pauses between your words and mine,
like a glance held a beat longer.

These threads, they pull—
sometimes a gentle tug,
a reminder that you’re there,
other times, they wrap tighter,
constricting me to moments I thought forgotten,
to feelings I thought were mine alone.

But now I know you carry them too.

I’ve felt them in your laugh,
the unseen current that flows,
a quiet echo of something shared,
in the way you turn toward me,
as if the air between us isn’t empty,
as if the world tilts slightly in our direction.

I try to loosen them,
but they only tighten—...