Lanterns fade, your name trembles in the dusk, a fragile flame hides in my chest, like a secret too tender to speak. I gather rivers in my hands, they slip into your voice, turning syllables into petals, petals into shadows, shadows into light. The sky forgets itself tonight, but your eyes rememberā constellations burning without permission, guiding me through a skyless night. Every distance is a silver disguise, threading silence into my breath, I walk on the edge of your memory, and fall into the spaces you left. If time falters, if the world slipsā let me keep the lantern on a wall that never falls. I will light it with the echo of you. Your absence is not empty, it hums, it grows, it bends my hours into glass. I touch them, they shatter, yet each fragment reflects your face. The night is endlessā but even in its deepest wound your voice lingers, like rain that never chooses the ground, like stars that never forget their fire. And still, I am held by the echo where eternity hides, where love is not written, but breathes, like constellations scattered through my veins.
