Woven

We were never something you could name,
no beginning to trace, no ending to blame—
just threads crossing in places no one could see.
Two lives stitched in colors that didn’t belong,
yours in quiet hues, mine running strong,
yet somehow they held where they shouldn’t be.
We never touched long enough to stay,
never spoke the words that would give us away,
but something in us refused to come undone.
Like fabric pulled tight on a hidden seam,
we lived in the space between truth and dream,
two patterns woven, but never one.
And still—
after time unraveled all we knew,
after distance tried to fade your hue,
I feel you in everything I can’t explain.
In the pause before silence fully sets,
in the weight of all I can’t forget,
in the echo that never learned to wane.
We were never love the world could hold,
never a story that could be told—
but something deeper, something unshown.
Because even now, with years between,
in every thread of what I’ve been,
I find your colors… still sewn into my own.