You slipped through a crack in the line a comma undone, a sentence unspun. I caught you mid-fall, your face against mine, a collision of verbs where silence had run. We lived between margins, where time left its stain. You grew like an asterisk, I stayed like a name. I prayed we'd be canon, but we were just drafts. Each chapter crossed out with red-lettered shafts. Then the sky took you back, just a footnote, a breath. Now I'm the blank space that outlives your death.
