I feel you
from the first drop.
the one that didn't drip.
only burned on contact.
as a gesture.

You're heavy today.
not in the hands.
on the knees.
where defeat remains and sleeps.

You used to come with light.
Now you enter like a shadow rehearsal.
like something he knows
that it won't end well
and yet it comes.

when you tap your foot
you think you control me
but I —
I —
I still hide the blood of another.
εκείνου που έσπασε
χωρίς φωνή
και δεν τον άκουσε κανείς.

You only remember me when you fall.
when the ball leaves
and you are left alone with your sweat
and the breath that escapes.

I hold your body.
I deny you victory.

I'm here.
the floor.
No, friend.
not an enemy.
a contact that does not belong to you.

and when you're done,
when you leave again
carrying
only sounds
and pain
and the feeling of "just a little more"—

I will still have you on me.
with a footprint.
a small, wet "I was here."
that never dried up.