You Still Exist in the Small Things

I don’t miss you loudly.

There are no sobbing nights,

no empty bottles or love songs

played on loop.

But I do miss you—

in the way I still pause

at your favorite kind of tea.

In the smell of rain on warm pavement

that always made you nostalgic,

though you never said why.

You’re in the way I double-check my tone

before hitting send.

You’re in the crooked way I smile

when someone calls me by your old nickname.

You’re still

every bit of kindness I offer

on the days I have none to spare.

I thought forgetting you

would be like closing a door.

But it’s more like

carrying a stone in my pocket—

small enough not to slow me,

but always there.

I don’t reach for you anymore.

But I don’t let go, either.

Because some loves don’t ask to be forgotten.

They ask to be honored.

Quietly.

Softly.

In the background hum

of a life that moved forward.