Strings

Not chains.

Not knots.

Nothing heavy, nothing forced.

Just strings.

Thin at first,
  a song sent,

  a joke that landed just right.

A shared sigh
  over the absurdity—
  of eating schedules

  that make no sense to anyone else.

Then more—
     late nights stretched too long,
  early mornings stretched too thin,

  sleep coming when it pleases,
         never when it should.

A note held in the music
  that neither of us should love,
  but somehow…
               we do.

A rhythm we both knew
  without ever learning the steps.

An understanding,
   silent but sure—

   that we belong anywhere,
              and nowhere,
              and somehow,

   still found each other.

Not chains.

Not knots.

Nothing heavy.

Just strings.

Pulled tight across distance,
  plucked like quiet melodies,
  tangled just enough…
                      that neither of us
                      wants to undo them.