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.