Steam from the kettle fogs the window Your text arrives: Soundcheck ran long Here, the news plays low, I fold your hoodie on the chair Counting the clicks of the heater Your noon is my midnight, the calendar won’t agree I trace the ring your cup left on the table Signal drags, we talk between the static Saying so much with a breath and a pause Two time zones, one table I keep your place like you’ll walk in later You’re far away, but this ache sits near Leaning on me like a quiet roommate I pour two cups, one cools untouched Until your voice climbs through the speaker This ache is near, you are far This ache is near, you are far You send a photo: Plastic stool, lime wedges, soft noodles Motorbikes weaving, rain beading your sleeve I send you mine: Elevator mirror, grocery bags A bus card pressed flat in a wallet We trade our days like postcards Every corner bent by the miles I talk to the gap that sits between us It answers with clocks that never align Two time zones, one table I keep your place like you’ll walk in later You’re far away, but this ache sits near Leaning on me like a quiet roommate I pour two cups, one cools untouched Until your voice climbs through the speaker Let’s keep the rituals: Your worn gray tee on my pillow My playlist in your headphones before the set When dawn finds me and your evening begins We meet in a small square on the screen and call it the same room Two time zones, one table I keep your place like you’ll walk in later You’re far away, but this ache sits near Leaning on me like a quiet roommate I pour two cups, one cools untouched Until your voice climbs through the speaker (Two time zones, one table) (Two time zones, one table) Two time zones, one table, this ache stays near