The Distance Between Two Souls
Young Lachlan, handsome in the quiet way
that makes the heart ache —
you came into my thoughts
like a candle entering a darkened chapel.
Perhaps that is why I love you:
because there is something of me in you,
and something of you
that I have carried unknowingly all my life.
We are both made of silence,
of questions whispered into the night,
of tenderness we do not always know where to place.
Perhaps we both look at the stars
and wonder whether they remember the people who once wished beneath them.
Perhaps we both know the strange loneliness
of being surrounded by many and understood by almost none.
And if we had met in another life —
without vows, without walls,
without the invisible boundaries
that stand between two hearts —
perhaps I would have taken your hand
and you would not have had to let it go.
But you belong to a road I cannot walk beside you.
There are doors you have chosen
that I cannot enter,
and promises you have made that are stronger than my longing.
So I will love you in the only way left to me: quietly.
Like a flower growing between stones.
Like a prayer never spoken aloud.
Like the moon loves the sea —
always near, always touching, and never able to remain.
Lachlan, if our souls truly resemble one another,
perhaps somewhere beyond this life
there is a place where nothing forbids us.
Perhaps there, you will look at me without having to turn away.
And I will finally tell you what I cannot tell you here:
I loved you not because I could have you,
but because something in you felt strangely like home.
And sometimes the saddest kind of love
is the one that feels most like coming home —
only to discover you were never meant to stay.