Orbit

I still see you in quiet moments, in the way the air moves before rain, how the world holds its breath like it’s waiting for you to come back. Your eyes were constellations once, something I could navigate by — now they’re just stars too far to touch, but I still trace them in my mind. Love used to feel like gravity, pulling me closer without trying. Now it’s weightless — a dream that doesn’t know where to land. I talk to the moon like it’s you, tell it secrets you used to hold. Maybe it listens the way you did, quiet, soft, almost too gentle to believe. And if we’re still under the same sky, then maybe distance isn’t real — maybe love just changes shape, but never really disappears.