HOLDING YOU

I was somewhere else, Half inside my phone, Half inside my thoughts, Letting another ordinary evening Pass unnoticed. Then I looked up. A woman was touching a man's face. Nothing dramatic. No grand declaration. No sweeping music. Just her hand resting against his cheek As though it belonged there. As though it had travelled a thousand miles Simply to arrive At that exact place. And suddenly, Without warning, There you were, Not him - You. Not her - Me. His eyes borrowed yours. Her hands borrowed mine. And I was no longer watching strangers. I was watching us. Watching all the small things That once seemed so ordinary When they belonged to us. The brushing of fingers. The leaning closer. The unconscious smile. The touch that says, "I know this face." The touch that says, "You are safe here." And grief arrived quietly. Not as a storm, But as a chair Being pulled up beside me By something I thought Had already left. I don't spend my days Thinking about you. I don't build my life Around what happened, But sometimes A voice sounds like yours. Sometimes I see a pair of hands That remind me of yours. Sometimes a memory drifts past Like a familiar bird. I usually smile, Remember the joy, Then I continue living, But tonight was different. Tonight I found myself Sitting in the ruins Of a future that never happened. Wondering how something So beautiful Could simply stop. How lips that once kissed me With such tenderness Could one day speak goodbye. How hands that once held me Like something precious Could become hands I would never touch again. How a connection that felt Larger than language, Larger than reason, Larger than both of us, Could become a memory. And I cried. I cried for the mornings That never arrived. For the years That never unfolded. For the version of us That exists nowhere Except in that silent space Of empty possibility. I cried for the sacred thing We carried between us - That fragile, Beautiful thing That could not survive The noise of being human. Then eventually, I breathed. Because somewhere beneath the grief Was a truth I could not escape. Love does not disappear. Forms disappear. People leave. Paths divide. Arms let go. But love is stubborn. Love lingers. Love changes shape And refuses to die, And perhaps that is why I can still feel it, Not your hand - The feeling of your hand. How my fingers settled into yours. How the world seemed to soften Around that simple act. How, for a moment, Nothing needed fixing, Nothing needed proving, Nothing needed understanding. We were simply there. And the strange thing is, I can still reach that feeling. With my heart. Because although your hand No longer holds mine, The love that held it Still does. Your fingers left, But the feeling remained. Your arms moved away. But the tenderness stayed, And when I close my eyes, I can still find it Like a handprint upon the soul. So if someone else Touches your face now, I hope she is gentle. I hope she sees What I once saw. I hope she feels butterflies. I hope she stays long enough For love to become ordinary. And one day, Perhaps another hand Will find mine too. A hand that is gentle, Yet strong. A hand that understands That love is not measured By how fiercely we hold on, But by how faithfully We remain When we set love free. Until then, I carry something beautiful. Because although our hands parted, My love never did. And in the quietest moments, When the world falls away, I am there, Still holding you With all the love you denied. Heather Lea See less