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I was the flame
that left no warmth,
only frost
clinging to your pulse.

You remember the ghost,
not the girl.
Her name never reached
your mouth.

No one asks to be saved.
We just want someone
to notice
the outline we leave
before we vanish.

I poured my secrets
into colourless waves,
convinced beauty might drown
what bruised me.

There were echoes,
not of words,
but of what I meant
and never spoke.

Too loud in your silence,
too absent in your eyes,
I drifted through your days
like unfinished thought.

In rooms without names
I held my breath
like a promise
you forgot to make.

And if you had looked
closely
you might have seen it,
my reflection
breaking quietly,
shimmer by shimmer.

I was nowhere after sunrise,
when I should have been
everywhere
before the dark.

But still
I wait.
Still
I burn.
Still
I refuse
the tiptoeing.