In the hush between two heartbeats,
I misplaced my name—
it slipped quietly
into the echo of yours.
Love was not gentle.
It was a tide that didn’t ask,
a gravity that bent my hours
toward your orbit.
I wandered there—
in the soft chaos of your laughter,
in the quiet ache of your absence,
in the way your shadow
lingered longer than light.
There were moments
I almost found myself again—
in mirrors, in memories,
in the spaces you hadn’t touched—
but even those reflections
spoke your language.
To be lost, they say, is fear.
But this felt like surrender—
like dissolving into something
vast and wordless,
where “I” no longer mattered
and “us” was a horizon
I could never reach.
If I am gone,
let it be known—
I was not taken.
I was undone, willingly,
thread by trembling thread,
in the infinite pull
of loving you.
Thank-you for reading.
Brenda Marie
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This is breathtaking, Brenda. The way you weave loss and devotion—especially “my name slipped into the echo of yours” and “your shadow lingered longer than light”—is pure tenderness with an edge of ache. It reads like a love that reshaped someone from the inside out. Truly beautiful. 🤝🌷
Thank you so much—this really means a lot to me. I’m especially touched that those lines resonated with you; they came from a very quiet, vulnerable place. I was trying to capture how love and loss can intertwine so deeply that they almost become indistinguishable, shaping who we are in ways we don’t always notice at first.
Your words about it feeling like a love that reshapes someone from the inside out are exactly what I hoped might come through, so I’m grateful you felt that. Thank you for reading so closely and for sharing such a thoughtful reflection.