I see.
This match in your hand.
With careful movements.
Meticulous.
Dodging the rain that fell.
Hand over humble flame.
The previous burns are still there.
Lingering.
And yet.
You push forward.
Hoping.
That not a single tear will wash away the light.
I witness.
The runaway train.
Horns blaring.
Muffling the words.
That never seem to come.
Mach three.
And still no signs of slowing.
I stare.
A bystander.
As the earth beneath your feet stirs.
Quaking knees.
The smile never left.
For your safety was never in the prompt.
I gaze.
At all the beautiful disasters in question.
This house of blades.
Tell tales of edges that are remnant still.
Whispers so loud.
That even the ghouls shy away.
And as I do all these things.
I have never left your side.
The past may haunt.
The winters cold indeed.
But let shine my love.
For a constant you have truly been.
One that I shall never faulter from again.