I reached out my arm
and thought I touched you,
but it was only my thoughts
that made me believe
you were there.

Your name hung
somewhere between memory and hope,
in the silence of the room
that still seems to remember your breath

In that moment,
I traded the joy I felt
for sorrow,
because I realized
that in the illusion of my being
I had forgotten
that you are no longer here.

How strange it is
that absence can feel
so solid,
like a shadow
that doesn't vanish with the light.

I keep searching
in empty chairs,
in soft scents,
in old words you once said
without knowing
how loud they would echo
after you were gone.

And sometimes,
for a heartbeat,
it's as if you're near again,
until the truth returns,
and the silence weighs heavier
than memory can bear.