When he was here, it felt like something real  
the way his eyes lingered,  
the unspoken words we wore like secrets,  
a laugh, a look, a touch just long enough  
to make me think I was seen.

But now he’s faded, a ghost of what he seemed,  
a light snuffed out, no explanation,  
just an empty space where his warmth used to be.  
No calls, no signs, no trace he remembers,  
only the ache of what he left behind.

Did I imagine it?  
Was he only passing through?  
Or did he mean it, too once?  
I hold the memory close,  
a spark I can’t let go,  
listening to the silence he left like an echo.