“Near Enough”
It was a bookstore…
of course it was.
Quiet, half-forgotten,
where dust softened the corners
and no one asked questions
louder than a whisper.
You walked in
just as I was turning a page.
I didn’t look up at first.
I knew.
I knew like the smell of rain,
like a skipped heartbeat
that isn’t quite fear.
Your voice broke the silence
in the next aisle,
asking for something.
A title, I pretended not to hear.
Still, my fingers froze
on a spine I didn’t care about.
I almost said your name.
Almost.
You stepped around the corner.
Closer than you’d been in months,
years, maybe.
And we stood there
like strangers
with too much history
and not enough present.
Your eyes met mine
for just long enough
to say everything
and absolutely nothing.
You smiled.
Polite. Small.
A flicker of all we once were.
And then you turned,
bought nothing,
and left with the bell above the door
ringing louder than it should have.
I stayed.
Read the same sentence
four times.
Later, I wondered
if you waited outside,
just long enough to see
if I’d follow.
I didn’t.
And you didn’t come back.
But the space between us
was closer than it’s been
in a long time.
And I’m not sure
if that was enough…
or too much.
“Last Kindness Interlude”
I saw you again,
just once more,
months later,
passing through the Sunday market
with a scarf I didn’t recognize
and a softness I hadn’t seen
when we were still us.
You looked lighter.
Not happier,
just…
untethered.
Like someone who finally stopped
carrying what wasn’t theirs.
You didn’t see me.
Or maybe you did,
and chose not to look.
Either way,
it felt right.
Because we had our chances.
We had the long nights,
the coffee spoons,
the silence filled with everything
we never said.
And now, I hold you
the only way I still can…
as memory,
as lesson,
as a kind of quiet I’ll never forget.
Some loves aren’t meant to last.
But they stay,
in the way you check the weather
before leaving the house,
or how you pause before saying
someone else’s name.
Letting you go
wasn’t the end of something.
It was the last gift
I could give
to what we were.
And maybe
that’s the most honest love of all.