描述
In the silence of a fading page,
Your words linger like a ghostly trace,
Each letter a whisper from a distant age,
Carved in shadows I cannot erase.
The ink has bled, the edges frayed,
But the echoes of love still softly speak,
Of promises made, of nights that stayed,
In memories fragile, lost and weak.
Yet here I sit, beneath dim skies,
Holding on to what’s no longer mine,
A love that vanished but never dies,
Buried deep in forgotten lines.
idil Koçman/3dphilosopher
