Thin Threads II

Light bends where it once held, Edges shift without sound. Fingers trace the air again, Grasping shapes that barely stay. Steps falter over worn ground, Moments slip between them. Time hums softly, almost gone, Carrying traces I can’t keep. Closer once, then drifting slow, Touch dissolving, ebbing low. No hands to anchor, no voice to call, Only soft shapes breaking small. Each return thinner, barely near, Lingering warmth, fading clear. Still it moves inside the chest, Quiet ache that won’t rest. Shadows lean but don’t respond, Paths unfold without claim. Movement bends to absent weight, Leaving me unchanged. Some things vanish by a quiet drift, Not gone, but gently thinned. Beauty rests in subtle gaps, Where presence almost ends. Closer once, then drifting slow, Touch dissolving, ebbing low. No hands to anchor, no voice to call, Only soft shapes breaking small. Each return thinner, barely near, Lingering warmth, fading clear. Still it moves inside the chest, Quiet ache that won’t rest. Gone but not erased, Shaping space in fragile grace. Nothing spoken, nothing forced, Still it lingers, soft and coarse. Closer once, then drifting slow, Touch dissolving, ebbing low. Still it moves inside the chest, Quiet ache that won’t rest.