Detached but Deep
for the Avoidant Aquarius, the Sovereign Muse
I do not cling,
but I remember everything —
the way your voice cracked
When you almost told the truth.
The way silence stretched
like a bridge I refused to cross
until I knew it wouldn’t collapse.
I do not chase, I orbit with intention —
mapping your tides, feeling your storms
from a safe constellation away.
I do not drown, but I dive when the water is clear —
when the invitation is sacred, when the depth is mutual,
when the anchor is trust and not expectation.
I do not ghost; I recalibrate.
I do not forget; I archive it in the constellations.
I am detached, but I am deep —
a wind that listens, a wave that waits,
a flame that burns only for those who are fluent in soul.
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