Nothing Else Passed

Some things stay

long after they’re unnamed.

Depth settles

where noise gives up.

Not loud.

Not visible.

Just there.

Warmth, held back.

Softness, with weight.

An open heart

that never spills.

Crowds pass.

Nothing catches.

Once,

there was fit.

No negotiation.

No excess.

Later,

it was clear

who stood there —

US.

After that,

everything else

stopped at the threshold.

What stayed

was not loss —

but measure.

Ache learned its edges.

Silence sealed itself.

Nothing reaches now.

Nothing explains.

Still here.

Unreduced.

Misread.

Not mistaken —

just untranslated.

Not unlovable.

Just unentered.