The night hums a quiet tune,
a melody lost between stars and sighs.
Moonlight spills like silver ink,
writing forgotten dreams on my skin.
I chase echoes of a name I never spoke,
woven in the hush of the wind.
Footsteps dissolve in the sand,
yet the tide carries them back—
again, and again.
Time bends where longing lingers,
soft hands reaching for yesterday’s touch.
But love, like mist,
fades before fingers can hold it.
So I gather the whispers,
press them into my ribs,
let them bloom beneath my breath—
a garden of moments,
eternal and unseen.
Mar 25, 2025
Mar 25, 2025 at 5:25 AM UTC
The night hums a quiet tune,
a melody lost between stars and sighs.
Moonlight spills like silver ink,
writing forgotten dreams on my skin.
I chase echoes of a name I never spoke,
woven in the hush of the wind.
Footsteps dissolve in the sand,
yet the tide carries them back—
again, and again.
Time bends where longing lingers,
soft hands reaching for yesterday’s touch.
But love, like mist,
fades before fingers can hold it.
So I gather the whispers,
press them into my ribs,
let them bloom beneath my breath—
a garden of moments,
eternal and unseen.
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