My heart is a station after the last train,
benches remembering warmth that left.
Footsteps echo like unfinished sentences,
searching for someone who never arrives.
I held a ticket with your name for years,
ink fading into silent paper.
Even the clock grew tired of waiting,
only loneliness stayed on time.
Feb 5
Feb 5, 2026 at 1:48 AM UTC
My heart is a station after the last train,
benches remembering warmth that left.
Footsteps echo like unfinished sentences,
searching for someone who never arrives.
I held a ticket with your name for years,
ink fading into silent paper.
Even the clock grew tired of waiting,
only loneliness stayed on time.
