Out Of Reach Poem by ashok jadhav

I still speak to you as if distance were kind,
as if love could cross what silence has sealed.
My words travel the old paths of habit,
then stop—there is nowhere left to arrive.
You live now beyond voice and reply,
beyond the small mercies of "how are you."
Even memory feels like a broken signal,
flickering, unable to hold you still.
What hurts is not that you do not answer,
but that love continues, unchanged by loss.
It reaches for you the way hands remember
a shape they once knew how to hold.
To love the unreachable is a quiet torment:
all the devotion with no direction home.
I stand here, calling into absence,
learning how far the heart can go—and fail to touch.