Your touch,
a whisper seared into my skin,
a flame etched beneath the surface.
I wanted to hide,
behind shadows,
behind trembling hands,
but your grip anchored me in the light,
steady and unrelenting.
It wasn’t gentle,
but neither were the stars
splintering in my chest,
their sharp edges igniting
under your gaze.
Now,
in the stillness of forgotten songs,
your phantom lingers.
It trails warmth,
a fleeting chill,
a truth I wear like a shadow.
reflections of an unquiet mind 