What It Means to Burn at a Distance

Dear Centauri,

I see you in the way the stars hum.

I know I can’t touch you,
and I’m finally learning not to try.

But that doesn’t mean
I stopped loving the light.

You still show up in sunsets.
In glints on water.
In the ache behind a song
I haven’t heard since you.

I don’t need you to come back.

I just need the universe to keep whispering your shape
in the language of distance
I now understand too well.

Always,

—Castor