Echoes

I carry you
in the spaces between heartbeats,
in the pause before sleep,
in the moment a song ends
and the world holds its breath.

You are the echo
of laughter in empty rooms,
the ghost of warmth
in winter sheets,
the shape of absence
that still feels like presence.

Time moves forward,
but memory
has no direction.
It loops and spirals,
brings you back
in fragments:

the way you said my name,
the weight of your hand,
the particular silence
we learned to share.

I don't believe in ghosts,
but I believe in echoes.
And you, my love,
are the longest echo
I have ever known.