I walk through the night
with shadows that remember your name,
your absence pressing close,
your ghost folded into every corner
where my heart tries to hide.

I leave marks behind,
scratches in the dirt,
breadcrumbs for someone
to trace me back to myself,
to find the pieces I cannot carry alone.
Can you see them,
the quiet evidence of my survival,
the tracks that tremble with fear
and longing for rescue?

I fall and I fade,
the air grows heavy in my chest,
and still I breathe,
even when the world feels too loud,
even when the darkness clings
like a secret I cannot speak.

Some nights I whisper for you,
your name soft on my lips,
hoping someone cares enough
to pull me to the surface,
hoping someone sees
the small fire I still carry,
even through the shadows.

And sometimes I remember the light,
the moments where laughter
floated like petals in the air,
your smile soft as honey,
your touch playful as spring,
and I feel both the ache of loss
and the sweetness of having been alive
enough to hold it.

I am torn between worlds,
between the grief that pulls me down
and the gentle warmth
that keeps me here,
between drowning
and the fragile hope of being found.

I stay in quiet rooms
where your memory hums
like a string vibrating under my fingers,
and I watch, mesmerized,
the ordinary magic of you,
the life I never dared to speak aloud.

Sometimes I fall apart,
sometimes I want to die of longing,
sometimes I hope you follow the tracks I leave,
and sometimes I remember to smile
because the world still feels
like honey dripping slow,
like roses blooming,
like love that lingers
even when everything else has gone.

I am falling, I am fading, I am calling,
and still I am here,
waiting to be found,
waiting to breathe,
waiting to remember
that the darkness does not have the last word.

Onnaya