You feel it too, I know:
the touch where shadows caress
when pale moonlight drapes
a silken glow over forgotten
whispers.
That tremor, transient as summer rain—
dances at the edge of consciousness,
a symphony vanished in an inhale,
clings to you like hope to a dream.
Dive deeper, deeper still—in realms
spun from tender touch and lost memories,
where every drive of the soul
paints another stroke upon the mind’s canvas.
Await me, somewhere spectral.
Traces of Yesterday
Feel my presence in the quiet songs
that your heart learns to hum alone—silent,
worthy echoes,
now imprudent
says the phantom's embrace.
Reckon to grasp what lingers like wistful sleep.