Hello

I was a hymn hummed in the hollow, a stillness folded in on itself…the kind of quiet that doesn’t beg to be broken, only endured. My world, a gentle murmur of maybe-next-time, a cathedral of closed doors.
Then you…you, all wildfire and violins, entered like a question no one dared ask, and I…I answered.
“Hello.”
God, what a foolish gospel of a word.
With it, I spilled the archive of my silences at the feet of your smile, that sun-swept smile that made ruins romantic, and shadows feel seen.
You were already taken, stitched into someone else’s story. But still…I danced in the ellipses of your presence, made metaphors of your glances, drew constellations between your freckles and called it hope.
I who never needed witness, never thirsted for eyes…now drink drought. Now ache like architecture with no tenants, now haunt the rooms you once walked through without even knowing you were holy.
And loneliness…oh, she was never cruel to me before you. Before your laugh taught me what silence truly meant. Before your absence became a language I was forced to learn.
I smile now with precision. I speak with borrowed thunder.
To them, I am occasional lightning…but you, you saw the storm. You sparked it. You left.
And I remain…an introvert in borrowed skin, a man unraveling in borrowed light, rewinding that moment you looked at me…really looked, as if I weren’t invisible but inevitable.
Darling, you dug a universe in my chest with one word, and now I orbit that singularity…hello.
I say it to no one now, just echo it inward,
a prayer for a past that never belonged to me.
And isn’t that the cruelest thing?
To live untouched for so long, and only feel truly alone after being seen.