Missing you,
as always.
Your kind amber eyes.
The soft sound of your laughter.

The memory of you, dances between my thoughts.

Day in.
Day out.

Nothing new.

In the quiet hours, your laughter lingers,
Echoes of memories dance on my mind’s stage.
Each shadow whispers of love’s tender fingers,
Yet here I stand, a heart caught in a cage.

Stars above witness the nights I still yearn,
For the warmth of your gaze that once felt like home.
In dreams, I reach out, but the tides never turn,
As I wander this world, forever alone.

A ballroom echoes without song,  
Where shadows waltz with ghosts unseen,  
And silence sings where I belong.  

Your touch, a whisper on the skin,  
A breeze that dances, then is gone,  
A fleeting breath in an empty room,  
The ache of dawn before the dawn.  

Lover, I’ve tasted your absence sweet,  
Like wine that’s poured from shattered clay,  
Each drop a vow that drifts away,  
Lost to a sea where echoes fray.  

What is love but a vacant sky,  
A canvas torn by wings that fled?  
What is passion but quiet dust,  
On books that whisper what’s unsaid?  

I’ve called your name in secret tongues,  
An offering to the void between,  
Where roses bloom with thorn and vine,  
And fade to ash in midnight’s sheen.

do you remember me? it's been four years. i look so different, but i think i might have seen a flicker of recognition in your eyes, maybe a smile. you look pretty different, too, with that half-baked teenage beard and that new school uniform. i remember how our old school uniform hung off your lily-white shoulders, not yet grown into. you've grown so much. I'm half-convinced i dreamed you, as you were years ago. i saw you and felt a tug in my gut, almost like stepping into a childhood home where someone else has set up a life. why am i am so stuck on seeing you, like it left a hook in my lungs, like a scratched-up CD? maybe because i knew you, but not anymore. maybe because we never really said goodbye. maybe because it was always, always complicated. maybe because we were friends. maybe because of the thumbnail car you left on my hand. maybe because i miss you. maybe because seeing you shot me right back to five summers ago when all that mattered was the melting heat of the oval grass and who we ate lunch with. i hope i see you again. maybe next time I'll say hi. maybe point out the scar and fit it to your thumbnail. maybe never tell you i picked at the scab over and over to have something to remember you by. maybe ask you about your favourite movie.