waiting at the red light

i sit through every red light like it’s a test of faith.

the glow paints my hands in warning,

my face in patience.

sometimes i think if i wait long enough,

the light will change for you —

that you’ll turn the corner

and my waiting will mean something.

the radio hums a song i don’t remember loving

until this moment.

i let it fill the car,

pretend it’s your voice

silk and honey coming through static.

the cars move again but i don’t.

somewhere, maybe, you’re also stopped

under another red light,

checking your mirrors for ghosts.

checking your mirrors for me.

maybe we’re both suspended —

not driving toward each other,

not away.

just breathing

in the same invisible traffic.

hoping one day one of us will appear.