Strangers
And suddenly, we were strangers again,
lost in the whispers of autumn leaves,
where laughter once danced like sunlight,
our shared stories, fragile as spun sugar,
swirling in the dim corners of memory,
each echo a soft ache against the silence.
I trace the ghost of your smile,
against the faded canvas of yesterday,
where we spun dreams under the vast azure,
weaving threads of trust, delicate and bright,
yet time became a wandering river,
pulling you downstream to shores unknown.
I remember the way our thoughts intertwined,
two vines climbing the same ancient tree,
each branch a story told in the twilight,
the sweet scent of familiarity lingering,
now replaced by the cold bite of distance,
the space between us is an abyss of unsaid words.
Oh, how I miss your laughter,
a melody that could light the darkest nights,
now merely a dusting of stardust,
entrapped in the constellation of my mind,
the way your eyes sparkled,
while the world bloomed with indifferent beauty.
We were companions, sculptors of the same clay,
our hands molded by understanding,
yet now I stand, a solitary figure,
among memories that brush against my skin,
like a winter breeze that carries scents of lost autumn,
and I reach in futility, towards the shadows of what was.
In crowded rooms filled with familiar faces,
your absence carves a hollow echo,
each conversation a reminder of the void,
the weight of unshared moments unravels me,
as I grapple with the strangeness of your smile,
a tapestry of warmth now drawn too tight.
And suddenly, we were strangers again,
with hearts once beating simultaneously,
yet somehow, I carry the essence of you,
like a lost key rattling in worn pockets,
a stranger I often miss,
a ghost whose laughter lingers in the air.
So I stand among these shadows,
chasing the silhouettes of what once was,
embracing the bittersweet sting of reminiscing,
as life unfolds, ever onward toward the horizon,
but deep down, beneath the layers,
I know—I'll always seek you in the crowd.
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