The Distance Between Us

When someone calls your name
with such ownership,
I feel a weight,
a silence growing between us.

When someone sits beside you,
so naturally,
I am miles away,
watching with hollow eyes.

When someone shakes your hand
with such affection,
I wonder why my own fingers
remain out of place.

When someone speaks to you
with laughter,
I feel the absence of my own voice,
trapped behind a wall of longing.

When someone calls to ask of your well-being,
I hold my breath,
waiting for a moment
that seems to slip through my fingers.

And in all of this,
I stand like a shadow,
observing the warmth,
wondering why there are so many gaps
between us.

Why does it seem
that even the smallest connection
is pulled away from my reach?

The smile, the conversation,
the care,
they all feel like distant echoes
as someone else fills the space
that was once mine.

And in that space,
a quiet ache grows—
a jealousy,
a longing,
a distance I can never cross.

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