Liminality

A Limerent Love Story

Liminality (noun)
A place you cannot stay in forever,
and yet somehow never leave.

Story by Kasu (small wounds), Voiceover by Sam’s Spaghetti

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Liminality

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It was an ordinary Wednesday,
at five in the morning.

I woke too early, unable to fall back asleep.
I sent you a message,
you called immediately.

Your morning voice—low, rough, soft around the edges—
unraveled something in me.

Even from the other side of the call,
I could almost smell the instant coffee
lingering in your empty cup.

With every word,
I could feel the warmth of your body
pooling against my skin.

You told me
how much you ached for me.

The ways you planned
to ruin me later.

You kept talking
until there was nothing left in my head
except you.

That morning you showed up
with breakfast and your hands already restless.

We ate.
I ate.
You ate.
We disappeared into each other.

Not a single minute passed
without hunger.

Your mouth memorized
every inch of my skin.
The scrape of your beard
left behind a thousand scars
bearing your name.

And when you left,
I felt the weight,
the emptiness,
the fever of your absence.

Except, of course,
none of it ever happened.

None of it existed
anywhere but inside me.

And your absence—
the only thing
I never had to imagine.

More times than I would ever admit,
I replay what happens after that phone call.

Because you told me
you couldn’t bear
losing me completely.

The rational part of you
wrote the ending of our story,
and I clung to that final chapter
just to avoid losing you entirely.

I am the only one
still loving us.

And even now,
every time we speak,
I can still feel
something moving
beneath our words.

But neither of us
knows how to let go.

I love you enough
to remain here with you.

I am not mourning you.
I am mourning
the life we never reached.

The terrible feeling
that we could have been happy
if only you had given us a chance.

I hope you think about me.
I hope that somewhere inside your mind,
regret still waits there.

I hope I linger—
in the silence,
in the middle of the night,
when everything goes quiet.

Because this longing to call you
just to hear your voice,
this liminal place we inhabit—

it lingers.

An endless sunset.
Soft light.
A world that only remembers us.

Imperfect.
Inconvenient.
Tenderly toxic.
Unavailable.
Clumsy.
Interrupted.
Fragile.
Misunderstood.
Obsessive.
Impossible.
Unrequited.
Limerent.

And still,

it lingers.

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Every quiet gesture helps.