Today is shaped like absence—
      the empty seat I didn’t claim,
         door I didn’t race through,
              hug I would’ve traded
                a whole weekend for.

Even one moment…
     would have been *worth it*.

Instead, I stay, (so lame)
         counting the near-misses:
         your laugh against my collar,
         coffee cooling between our knees,
         that nap we’d misname on purpose…

         the silence that knows our names.

The day fills itself with stand-ins—
    college games I don’t care about
    humming in the background,
    a schedule pretending to be a reason,
    my phone lit like a small lighthouse…

    because that’s where you are.

Later:
      Dodgers–Phillies, game one.
      You in red, me in blue,
      Ohtani swinging at distance,

      both of us smiling anyway.

We’ve done this before—
      hold different colors,
      but keep the same thread.

What I missed becomes a promise:
                 next open door,
                I run toward it.

No math,
   no cape-jokes,
   just shoes on and *yes*. (*fuck* yes)

What I’ll do today instead:
     save you the story,
     borrow your joy if it turns your way,
     offer mine if it turns mine,
     and leave a space on the couch
     the shape of your shoulder,

     so the room remembers what I meant to do today.