Perhaps this isn’t the kind of note

you’d ever pause to read.

Perhaps it drifts the way I float 

around what we used to be.

Maybe it lands without a sound,

without a scar or mark,

just words that never pull you down

the way you pull my heart.

It’s been two years since you slipped away

from places we once knew,

yet somehow you still find a way

to show up in someone new.

I look for you in passing faces,

in skies you taught by name,

in stars I still point out at night,

hoping you do the same.

I taste you in the coffee black,

in whiskey you taught to sip,

in every touch I can’t give back,

in every almost-ship.

I find you in the beds I leave,

in laughter that feels wrong,

in every place I try to be,

where you have always belonged.

You never said you loved me once,

I trusted that was true.

I told myself some hearts just don’t

speak words the way others do.

I learned to hear you in your acts,

to read between your tone,

to call your silence honesty,

and make it feel like home.

But now each time I see your face,

or scroll through what we were,

through pictures paused in better days,

through messages that blur,

I see it there, the love you hid,

in every careful part.

Because if you never lover me then,

this wouldn’t break my heart.

You said if someone gives me half

of what you used to give,

then surely he’s a decent man,

someone I could live with.

But tell me, sir,

does that mean I’m meant

to live my life in less?

To call a fraction “enough”

and practice tenderness?

I don’t want blame to shape your name,

or turn this into war.

But you engraved my heart with care

it can’t unlearn anymore.

You taught me what it means to be

seen fully, held just right.

Now anything that isn’t that,

feels dim against your light.

I can’t look them straight in the eyes

and say I love you too,

because they are not who you were,

and we are not “we” two.

No matter how I fake “moved on,”

or love someone brand new,

there’s always this quiet truth I hold:

it somehow leads to you.

So if you ever wonder why

your name still feels like flame,

why time hasn’t been kind enough 

to take away your name,

you never said you loved me then,

and maybe you never knew,

but love keeps showing up in you.

Because if it didn’t…

December 25, 2025.

A letter to Mr. Spaceman.