She’s not here.

But then again, she is.

In the way a song sneaks up on me,
   one she sent,
   one she loved,

   one that didn’t mean anything…
                                 until it did.

In the way someone says something
   just like she would,

   the same rhythm,
   the same wit,

   and for a second, I almost turn to respond.

In the way my phone lights up,
   and my heart jumps—
      just for a beat—

   before I remember it’s probably not her.

Not yet.

She’s in the space
  between thoughts,
      in the seconds between blinks,
      in the weight of words…

      I don’t even realize I’m waiting for.

A presence,
 A whisper,
   an echo.

Not loud.

Not demanding.

Just there.

And I wouldn’t have it
         any other way.