orbital fading

she was the moon

light
resting differently
on skin

blue beneath her wrists
pulling tides
through the room

the call continued
long after work
finished pretending
to matter

voices faded

screens darkened

yet hers remained

small shifts
becoming dangerous

her shoulder slipping
closer to pale-light

breath arriving slowly
through headphones
too near
to ignore

i watched silence
gather
between us

softly

like gravity
learning my name

she smiled once

not fully

enough
to move oceans

outside
night pressed
against the windows

inside
my body
kept turning
toward her

the cursor blinked

unanswered

blue light
holding her throat

her pulse there

visible
for a moment

then gone

“still with me?”

softly

and somehow
that felt worse
than if she’d touched me

because the room changed
before either of us
did

because wanting
had already entered
the air

because somewhere
between deadlines
and moonlight

i stopped hearing
the meeting

and started hearing
myself
orbiting

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From now until the Summer Solstice on June 21st, paid subscriptions are 50% off.

If you’ve been enjoying these quieter pieces, this is a gentle invitation to step a little closer.

Somewhere to pause for a while.

Step inside.

I’m always open to thoughtful writing collaborations.

Something more from me?

Nothing truly leaves — it just changes how it stays.

If something moved in you, I’d love to hear it below, or in my DM’s.

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All artwork courtesy of NDjin Gallery