Halcyon

Aching Mirages

Heart unsure, sighs grown old,
it started with a text, so simple, so bold.
A fleeting "Hey" was all it took,
a match struck deep in a half-read book.

Now we stand on this riverbank again,
with a half-built bridge leading nowhere,
a tether to nothing, a promise undone,
suspended between silence and thin air.

I was warned—oh, I was warned—
this road would twist into nothingness.

Yet I dared to trace the outline of a dream,
hoping I could carve it into existence.

We were kites cut loose in a windless sky,
adrift, aimless, pretending to fly.
Like moonlight—ethereal, pure, yet fading fast,
always destined to never last.

Moments played tricks on me—
was it the breathless laughter,
or the midnight words we whispered like prayers,

that made the lie seem so much softer?

Two actors lost in an unscripted play,
trading lines that changed by the day.
I followed the hints—wild, strange, unsure,
a language of longing, cryptic and pure.

And now the thread begins to fray,
the glass cracks, the colors fade.
Still, the sting of goodbye cuts too deep—
why does loss ache when you never had it to keep?

We walk away, both knowing the truth—
you, indifferent, me, aching proof.
And yet, I remain, hands grasping the air,
holding the remnants of something never really there.