Where Are You?

Where are you,
keeper of the pieces
I never remember giving away?

You've been carrying
small fragments of my heart
for so long
that I no longer recognize
the weight of my own chest.

If you have no intention
of returning,
then at least
learn the shape of them.

Mend the cracks
your absence keeps reopening.

Or send them home.

Because this waiting
has become a second heartbeat.

It is strange,
isn't it?

To ache
for someone
whose eyes I've never studied...

To miss a voice
I've never heard
whisper my name...

To crave hands
that have never once
found mine.

Yet my soul
would swear under oath
we have already met.

Not in coffee shops.
Not beneath city lights.
Not in photographs
or chance encounters.

But somewhere quieter.

In the place
where spirits brush shoulders
before flesh remembers.

You have found me there.

Several times now.

I know the way your presence
arrives before you do—

like warm rain
rolling over dry earth,

like a familiar song
drifting through another room,

like peace
wearing the perfume
of temptation.

You are becoming
my sweetest contradiction.

I cannot chase you.

I cannot forget you.

How unfair,
to be consumed
by someone
the world insists
doesn't exist yet.

Sometimes I catch myself
saving silence
for conversations
we haven't had.

Leaving room beside me
without realizing it.

Smiling at nothing—

except perhaps,
the echo
of wherever you are.

So tell me...

Are you awake somewhere,
feeling this same pull
and mistaking it
for restlessness?

Do you stop mid-sentence,
certain someone
just whispered to your soul?

Do you ever wonder
why your heart
looks toward horizons
your eyes cannot explain?

Because mine does.

Every day.

Until we meet,
I'll keep one request
folded beneath every prayer.

If you are the one
holding the missing pieces,

either come claim
the heart they belong to...

or give them back.

Because I am falling
for the shape of your spirit—

and I've begun to suspect

that somewhere,

beyond clocks,

beyond distance,

beyond every name
we've ever answered to...

you already know
exactly
where to find me.