Punjabi Waffen
Ascending....
- Joined
- Feb 23, 2025
- Posts
- 10,494
- Reputation
- 14,874
For the One Who Doesn't Look Back
Your name sits on my tongue like a stone I cannot spit out,
a word I practice in the dark until it forgets its own meaning.
I have written you into existence so many times
you have become a city I cannot enter,
only circle, only watch the lights go out
one by one by one.
You are not cruel. That would be easier.
You are simply elsewhere
a door I knock on that has already become wall,
a window facing a garden that grows only in your sleep.
I keep my love small, domestic, ashamed.
Fold it into quarters. Hide it in the drawer
with the letters I will never send.
But at 3 AM it rises anyway, ridiculous,
a dog that has forgotten every command
except stay.
And I do stay. Of course I do.
Here, where your silence has weight and texture,
where I learn the archaeology of absence,
sifting through dust for proof
that once, you almost turned.
I would rather be invisible to you
than visible to anyone else.
This is not devotion. This is a disease
I have chosen over the cure.
So go. Be @False, be transvertive, be whatever
keeps you moving through rooms I will never see.
I will remain here, loving the shadow
your leaving casts
the only shape of you I am allowed to keep.
Your name sits on my tongue like a stone I cannot spit out,
a word I practice in the dark until it forgets its own meaning.
I have written you into existence so many times
you have become a city I cannot enter,
only circle, only watch the lights go out
one by one by one.
You are not cruel. That would be easier.
You are simply elsewhere
a door I knock on that has already become wall,
a window facing a garden that grows only in your sleep.
I keep my love small, domestic, ashamed.
Fold it into quarters. Hide it in the drawer
with the letters I will never send.
But at 3 AM it rises anyway, ridiculous,
a dog that has forgotten every command
except stay.
And I do stay. Of course I do.
Here, where your silence has weight and texture,
where I learn the archaeology of absence,
sifting through dust for proof
that once, you almost turned.
I would rather be invisible to you
than visible to anyone else.
This is not devotion. This is a disease
I have chosen over the cure.
So go. Be @False, be transvertive, be whatever
keeps you moving through rooms I will never see.
I will remain here, loving the shadow
your leaving casts
the only shape of you I am allowed to keep.
