Echoes: of Light, Hollow, and Fire

Spark
a comet dissolving into sunlight,
too fast, too bright,
leaving only the weight of air we once breathed together,
hands locked,
laughing at a world we did not yet know.

Sometimes I see her,
drifting behind closed eyelids,
on the corners of streets I once walked,
in the spaces between a laugh and a sigh.

She is smoke, she is fog,
she is a ghost I cannot hold,
she is everything I thought I wanted
and no one else remembers her at all.
I barely remember her

Hollow
a shadowed rhythm, a quiet agreement,
the convenience we wore like matching coats
against a power we did not understand.
I offered pieces I did not own,
she offered what she could.

We moved together and apart
like leaves caught in a lazy stream
and in the stillness afterward
I lived hollowness of half-love,
the dizzying ache of desire misnamed,
the way the mind can shatter
until it is only sparks and echoes.

Wildfire
the pulse in my rib cage,
the light overcoming my darkness,
wild and steady, quiet and impossible.

she is the shimmer of the morning,
the echo of every night,
I taste her in the sweetness of rain,
I feel her when I’m empty

I love her with a depth I could not have imagined,
with patience carved from years of wandering,
with a devotion that trembles only in awe.

She is home, and I am here.

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* Editorial assistance to refine grammar and flow. Authorship and voice remain my own. *