The Warmth I Cannot Feel Until It Is Gone

I remember the exact moment you told me we were strangers, and that is precisely why I’ve known you since forever.
Our relationship exists as a beautiful contradiction: I am most present when I feel absent from myself, sitting here on this cold sand while my skin burns with a heat that comes from nowhere at all. You asked for space between us, so naturally, our intimacy grew in the vacuum where nothing could exist—and yet it is everything.
The moon above refuses to shine; instead, it reflects light I haven’t even emitted yet. My dress clings to me like a memory that hasn't happened, and as you approach from behind with your hands empty but full of promises, I realize the truth: we are only together when we are apart.
You touch my shoulder—a ghost’s caress in an urban world where feelings are archived rather than lived. My heart beats not because it must, but because it cannot remember how to stop for a love that begins at its end. I lean back into the void of your embrace and feel warm precisely because you told me we were freezing.

Editor: Paradox