Dusk wrapped the room in a veil of faded gold, where shadows danced like memories brushed by but never held. She sat at the piano, delicate and luminous, floating between dream and reality. Her form seemed sculpted from light, a figure of mist that evaded every glance. Her fingers, as light as petals, glided over the keys, releasing a melody no longer bound to this world. Each note lingered, stretched, like a secret whispered through time, heavy with unfulfilled desires, with loves lost to the current of the years.
In the dimness, he watched her, his breath caught, as if with one heartbeat, she might vanish forever. She was there before him, yet so far away, like a forgotten promise reborn too late. He knew her without understanding why—a presence so tender, yet so distant. Her music was the voice of their story, the one they never had the chance to live, the one fading into the folds of twilight.
Each note hung between them, filling the room with the bittersweet echo of what could have been—of nights they never shared, of dreams that never took flight. Yet in that moment, suspended in time, it felt as though the world had stopped for them. The melody wound itself around his heart, a delicate thread pulling him into a love he could almost touch but never hold. And as the final note lingered in the air, he realized it wasn't the end of their story, but the echo of a beginning they had once lost.
YOU ARE READING
we won't cry anymore
Puisia collection of poems and writings lying around in my notes app; a part of me, a pinch of my soul and here are my naked thoughts for you. hope you'll like my thoughts. have a good time in my mind!
