Untitled III

Time moves so fast the air still bends a little when I pass the places we loved, like it remembers something I don’t say aloud. Some nights feel almost the same, a quiet warmth that shouldn’t linger, yet does like light slipping through a half-closed door. I don’t plan the thought of you anymore, it just arrives, softly, like a song that hums itself beneath the noise. If fate ever circles back, I think I’d know the way to meet it not rushing, not holding, just standing still enough to feel. And maybe that’s how it happens, not with promises, but with eyes that understand what time couldn’t erase. So I let the air bend, let the silence speak your shape, not hoping, not denying just wondering if it still could.