The blue light from the street slips under my curtain
Draws a soft line across the floor I follow it
with my tongue like it might explain something
I didn't ask how loud A half empty glass sweats on the window silky
Cold rain on old wood I read your last message again
Not
for the words,
for the space around Everything you say sounds gentle
But nothing
ever lands You keep me in the vague part of your voice
Where nothing is wrong,
but nothing is real Every answer leans away from my name
Every promise forgets how it feels It's not confusion,
it's learning
the shape
of your distance by touch
A train passes somewhere behind the
building Metal breathing through the walls
My reflection floats in the dark window Slightly delayed,
like it's unsure about me
I used to translate your pauses into hope
Give silence a softer meaning
Now I let your tone stay unfinished Like
a sentence that knows it won't return
There's a calm that comes when I stop waiting for clarity
from you
You
keep me in the vague part of your voice
Where nothing is promised or denied
Where I'm close enough to feel included But never enough to arise
It isn't cruelty, it's the quiet
art of staying untouched by design
I thought uncertainty was a phase,
a fog that lifts if I stay kind
But some people live between worlds and call it time and
call it being nice
No fight,
no clean ending No moment I can blame
Just a slow relief,
I'll finally name it Would never change
You keep me in the vague part of your voice And I'm done building
rooms and maybe
I don't need loud
affection now I need something that can steady me
It isn't anger,
it's choosing not to disappear,
to stay
I delete the draft,
leave your tone where it belongs And step
out of the blur without explaining why