We met like dying embers, flickering in the wind’s quiet sigh, your eyes—twin eclipses, hiding a sun that never rose for me.
You spoke of eternity as if time would spare us, but I watched your shadow stretch, always walking ahead, never beside.
Your touch was a whisper, a promise you never meant to keep, and I, a fool with trembling hands, held onto the ghost of your warmth.
Love was a cigarette between your lips, burning, fading, forgotten in the ashtray— yet here I am, inhaling the smoke, pretending it still carries your scent.