On a Night Like This
On a Night Like This
Tonight, the light in the sky felt strangely sad.
The stars were there, shining,
yet their brightness only made the silence deeper.
All day long, my heart felt swollen.
Each time tears rose to my throat,
I had to lift my head as if nothing was wrong.
I smiled when it was expected.
I nodded when words required it.
And that is how the day passed.
When I look back, I realize how far I have come.
Too far to return.
Time has already built a long bridge between what was and what is.
Even knowing that we might meet again at a single point someday,
I kept standing where I was, pretending not to know.
As the stars grew clearer
and the lights outside faded one by one,
I found myself coming back here.
Because this is my only place to rest.
Tonight, my room felt unusually large.
The walls, the ceiling, the furniture — nothing had changed.
But the absence of another presence
made the space feel wider than before.
When I opened the window,
a single mass of wind rushed in.
It wasn’t as cold as I expected.
Instead, it quietly cooled my thoughts.
My breathing became softer.
I wanted to talk.
Not about anything important.
Just enough to unfold the weight of today.
As the years gather,
saying “I miss someone” becomes more careful,
and starting a conversation becomes harder.
So I write.
It doesn’t matter if no one reads it.
Within these sentences,
at least I can be honest.
When I miss someone,
when words stay trapped inside my chest,
I choose to write long lines like this.
It is how I protect myself.
