In the Between

By [Brwa S Rasheed]

Time drags its rusted teeth through the hours,
carving paths I cannot follow.
Four years of severed threads,
of reaching through fractures
where hands do not meet,
where silence swallows what should have been.

You were small when I last held you,
a weight I could carry,
a warmth that fit inside my ribs.
Now you rise beyond the edges of my sight,
a fire flickering in a room I cannot enter,
a voice carried by winds that never return.

The world is made of locks,
of distances built like cathedrals to the absent.
I have screamed at stone, at glass, at paper,
at laws that wear no faces,
at names that do not bleed.
I have torn at the seams of waiting,
but limbo does not break�"
it only watches.

Still, I dream in hunger, in fractures of light.
A moment where your name is more
than a ghost in my mouth,
where your laughter does not stretch
through wires, through time, through static.

One day, I will stand beside you,
not as a flicker, not as a whisper,
but as something real, something whole.

Until then, I build futures in the dark,
lay bricks in rooms I have never seen,
sculpt a life that may never know me.

No force can break what is already broken.
No distance can erase what is already fading.