Eclipsed by Your Light
All night I sit beside the cup
You left half-empty, growing cold—
The jasmine scent still climbs and wraps
Around the tea we once held gold.
My fingers trace your ghosted ring
On wood where breath once left its trace.
This fading circle won’t undo—
You vanished into summer’s face.
I press your sweater to my cheek
And breathe the orange blossom air
That lingered in your soft embrace—
Now folded like a whispered prayer.
The radiator hums your breath,
A rhythm steady, soft, and low.
My pulse recalls the evening’s pull,
That tide that drags me close to woe.
Outside, the city wakes in light
While I unlearn your weight each day—
Each dawn a vow I fail to keep,
Each dusk a promise swept away.
What madness keeps me counting stairs
You climbed once just to reach my door?
I’ve memorized how silence drapes—
That dress I ripped and wore before.
But here’s the crack within my guard:
Love never dies—it leaves its trace,
Like fingerprints on window glass—
Invisible in morning’s grace.
Tonight I let the jasmine fade—
This house keeps all we dared create.
I’ll wash the sheets where memory clings,
And learn to live with rain’s soft weight.
The morning spills across my floor,
Where shadows hold your shape in place.
Some ghosts remain forevermore,
Some cracks become our saving grace.
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