I still think about you;
silence reminds me
of your name.
I still feel the glaze
of every word
you never meant
to be sharp.
They crawl on my skin,
like frost on brittle
leaves.
I still yearn
for you;
but the sea is dead—
its tides unmoved,
and the moon no longer controls the wolves.
I still think about you;
not as often as I did,
but enough to know
I still might.
Jan 3
Jan 3, 2026 at 12:31 PM UTC
I still think about you;
silence reminds me
of your name.
I still feel the glaze
of every word
you never meant
to be sharp.
They crawl on my skin,
like frost on brittle
leaves.
I still yearn
for you;
but the sea is dead—
its tides unmoved,
and the moon no longer controls the wolves.
I still think about you;
not as often as I did,
but enough to know
I still might.
Catch.inthe.dark
