The Reach Not Taken

Her hand hovered, a ghost,

close enough to burn, but not to hold.

After hours of words sharp and quiet,

I flinched, shrinking back

like a cracked vase,

fragile, too raw for skin.

The silence pressed thick between us,

her fingers retreating,

the space folding over itself,

a breath held too long,

a touch not trusted,

a moment left suspended.