16/08/2025
The years wrote their stories in dust on the shelf,
But my heart? It remembers. It won’t forget itself.
I trace every scar where your fingers once burned,
A fire unquenched, though the world says it’s turned.
Do you still taste the salt of our last summer’s rain?
Or did time wash it clean like a wound without stain?
I kept every whisper, each laugh, every sigh,
Locked in the dark where the old ghosts still cry.
P.S. Slide into my DMs with 🕊️
If you’ve ever loved too deep to leave
