“Do you still feel it
in some happy elsewhere,
a quieter version of us
sits cross-legged on the kitchen floor,
arguing over groceries,
your hand reaching for mine
between apples and oat-milk.
Sometimes, I imagine running into you
as a stranger.
Your eyes flicker with almost-recognition,
like they remember the weight
of my name in the dark.
We smile, polite.
You walk away.
I fall in.
I don’t know if the abyss
was always meant to feel like home.
But I keep its door half open
just in case
you ever want to return
as someone new.
Or worse
as someone real.”