The gentle graze upon my skin,
from the hands of one I called mine,
holding back ghosts that linger,
of touches that remained behind,
whispered echoes of my name,
wondering if fate would let us align,
towards the pages that we shared,
hoping for a new beginning, even after the end.
Apr 18
Apr 18, 2026 at 11:59 PM UTC
The gentle graze upon my skin,
from the hands of one I called mine,
holding back ghosts that linger,
of touches that remained behind,
whispered echoes of my name,
wondering if fate would let us align,
towards the pages that we shared,
hoping for a new beginning, even after the end.
