We built our love on fragile glass, each word a shard, each touch a crack. Silent nights stretch long and cold, holding onto stories we’re too tired to hold.
Your voice, a distant echo in the dark, a ghost of promises we once knew. We dance on the edge of what remains, fearful of falling, afraid to lose.
Love once bloomed in vibrant hues, now faded into muted blues. We’re strangers in a shared skin, searching for the part of us that’s been worn thin.
But still, I clutch the memories tight— moments of warmth in the coldest fights. Hoping, perhaps, beneath the rubble and dust, there’s a whisper of us, waiting to trust.
