To me, your name is not something to be read,
but something to be endured

Each time it settles within my gaze,
my breathing grows shallow, and the waves sunken deep within my lungs remain there, hardened into silence, unable to recede at last
To exhale feels less like an act of survival and more like an act of loss cruel enough to blur the difference

You were never the kind of warmth that saves a person
You were beautiful and cold, like an abyss asleep beneath a glacier
Whenever your kindness that tenderness capable of unraveling me by its mere existence
brushed past me without intention, I forgot what it meant to be alive and dreamed instead of a perfect sinking

That quiet face was never peace,
but the stillness along the rim of a cracked glass.
The kind of danger from which one cannot turn away,
even knowing that the slightest touch will draw blood
You were far too warm to be explained by a word as fragile as precarious

The beauty just before a fall,
the order just before collapse,
and a depth that will remain forever undeciphered to me
You made powerless even the saying that time wears all things away, becoming the sole exception to its reach

A fragment of an unreachable shadow, a cold yet vivid shard fallen from the boundary between light and darkness
And if eternity truly exists within it, then I would willingly allow myself to be consumed within that fragment of eternity