Poem

I learn you in fragments the way light settles on your shoulder in photos you didn’t take for me, the way your laughter bends a room I’ve never stood inside. You are a distance I rehearse daily, a name I hold like a secret prayer no one taught me how to say out loud. I exist just outside your weather unfelt, unseen, unnamed. Still, I gather you. I collect the ordinary miracles of you your favorite song on repeat, the small, offhand things you love, as if memorizing them might someday make me matter. I would be the quiet architecture of your joy the unseen hand steadying your falling days, the shadow that never asks for light. If happiness were a language, I’d spend my life becoming fluent just to write it into your hours. You do not know me. I am a ghost in the margins of your life, ink that never touches your page. But I would rewrite the sky for you if it meant you’d wake up softer, smile a little longer. There is no fairness here, no balance, no return. Only this a want that blooms without permission, a devotion with nowhere to land. And still if loving you means standing forever at the edge of your world, watching you choose someone else, I will stand there quietly, holding every piece of joy you drop as if it were meant for me. But with all that said, I’m obsessed with you, I’m so in love with you