The Last Glance

A street stretches between us,
an ocean of asphalt and sun-scorched stone,
and there—
a fleeting spark catches my eye,
not yours, not mine,
but something suspended in the air,
like a feather caught in a sigh.

Your gaze brushed mine,
a comet grazing the horizon of my chest,
and for a heartbeat,
the world dissolved—
the car horns, the chatter,
the indifferent wind
all bowed to the quiet gravity
between us.

We did not speak.
We did not touch.
Yet the glance folded itself into memory,
crumpled and tender,
and carried the weight of words we never said.

I wonder if your eyes remember too,
if in the hum of your own day
my shadow lingers,
soft and stubborn,
curling behind your ribs
like smoke from a candle
we both ignored.

Even now, I feel it—
a ghost pressing lightly on my collarbone,
a pulse that is not mine alone,
the ache of a connection
that was never allowed to breathe.

And though we walk separate paths,
the glance lingers—
an unfinished sentence
that neither of us dared to complete.

- Khushi Kaul