When I Am Gone
When I am gone,
do not search for me in graves
or in the echoes of my name.
I will be elsewhere,
woven into sentences unfinished,
resting where honesty dared to speak.
Look for me
in the pauses between sentences,
in the ache that arrives
without explanation.
I scattered myself in quiet places
between lines no one lingered on,
truths softened into poetry
so they wouldn’t hurt too loudly,
so loving me would feel like discovery.
If you find me there,
do not mourn what you missed.
Just sit with the quiet recognition,
the soft grief of almost,
the tenderness of too late.
Let it be enough
that for one brief moment
you held my soul in your hands
and thought,
𝐼 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑑 ℎ𝑒𝑟.
L