Between Bruises and Blooms

The night knows things I never say out loud.

It knows how often I replay conversations, wondering if you caught the words I swallowed.

It knows that missing someone isn’t always loud.

Sometimes it’s making coffee for two before remembering you’re not here.

Sometimes it’s laughing at something funny and reaching for a phone before I remember there’s nothing new to send.

And sometimes it’s writing poems I’ll never show you, because somehow loving you quietly still feels like loving you completely.