Through the Fog

Category: connection

  • I See Your Sadness

    I see your sadness—

    not the obvious kind,

    not the kind

    that asks to be noticed.

    The quiet kind.

    The one you tuck

    behind your words,

    the one that slips

    between sentences

    when you think

    no one’s paying attention.

    You carry it well.

    That’s the problem.

    You’ve learned

    how to soften your edges,

    how to smile

    just enough

    to keep people from asking.

    But it’s there.

    In the way you pause

    a second too long,

    in the way your eyes

    don’t quite stay

    where they should,

    in the way you exist

    like you’re holding something

    you don’t know

    how to set down.

    I don’t need you

    to explain it.

    I don’t need

    a version of it

    that’s easier to hear.

    I just need you

    to know this—

    you don’t have

    to hide it here.

    Not from me.

    Because I see it.

    And I’m not going anywhere

    just because

    you’re not okay.

  • Broken Like Me

    I recognize it in you

    before you say a word—

    that quiet heaviness,

    the way you carry yourself

    like you’re holding something

    no one else can see.

    You smile

    at the right moments,

    say the right things,

    move through the world

    like you’ve learned

    how to pass for okay.

    But I see the cracks.

    Not the kind

    that shatter everything—

    the kind that run deep,

    silent,

    just beneath the surface.

    The kind you hide

    because explaining them

    would take too long,

    and most people

    wouldn’t stay long enough

    to understand.

    That’s how I know—

    you’re broken

    like me.

    Not ruined.

    Not beyond repair.

    Just shaped

    by things

    that didn’t ask permission

    before they changed you.

    We don’t talk about it.

    We don’t need to.

    There’s something

    in the way we exist

    around each other—

    a quiet recognition,

    a shared language

    made of what we don’t say.

    And maybe that’s enough.

    Not fixing.

    Not saving.

    Just knowing

    you’re not the only one

    walking around

    with pieces that don’t quite fit

    the way they used to.

    Broken—

    but still here.

    Still feeling.

    Still finding ways

    to hold together

    in a world

    that never promised

    we wouldn’t fall apart.

  • As If We’ve Met Before

    It feels like recognition,

    the way your presence settles into me—

    not rushing,

    not demanding,

    just arriving like it knows my name.

    As if somewhere beyond time,

    we once stood close enough

    to learn the sound of each other’s breath,

    and this moment

    is only the remembering.

    Your words touch places

    I didn’t know were still awake,

    like hands finding hands

    in the dark

    without searching.

    Maybe it’s not a past life.

    Maybe it’s this one,

    finally lining up just right—

    two souls brushing edges,

    sparking softly,

    saying there you are

    without speaking.

    There’s no need to promise anything.

    The warmth is enough.

    The closeness.

    The way the world feels quieter

    when we meet here.

    Some connections don’t ask

    to be kept forever.

    They only ask

    to be felt fully

    while they’re here.

    And this—

    this feels like something

    worth feeling.