Fading Light
We danced beneath a moonlit sky when youth’s defiance lit the blood and drew us close,
Flesh urgent, wanting, promises blooming in our laughter, each whisper a dare against tomorrow’s ghost.
The night was thick with heat, our bodies drunk on the belief that nothing fades if only clutched hard enough,
Fingers tracing constellations across backs slick with sweat and hope, the whole world outside distant, rough–
We named forever with our teeth, bit bruises into one another like vows, carved our names into the sheets,
And in that sweet collapse of trust, when every flaw was revealed in raw, honest defeat,
We soared: naked, unapologetic, our breath clouding the air with the fog of needing,
Unaware that every fever breaks, that even the most sacred gasp will one day become receding.
Time came in quietly, patient and cruel, not a thief with a knife but a connoisseur,
Unraveling us thread by thread, erasing the secret codes we wrote on trembling skin,
Leaving only the shell of rituals–brush of a hand, forced smile, the gentle slur
Of “I love you” said as habit, an incantation repeated long after magic’s gone thin.
Love became a memory argued over coffee, a question posed to the dust on a bedside lamp,
An echo lingering in hallways, as light slips away and regret plants its flag on the damp–
I searched the moon for answers, found only the shiver of old longing in its indifferent glow,
Its pale light exposing every gap in the story, every place truth refused to grow.
Why did we lose ourselves in silence, in the gentle violence of days that refused to end,
Spilling confessions that meant nothing, both of us knowing the other would not defend
What was left–our history, the sweetness now rotted, the tenderness gone brittle and dry,
We moved through our home as ghosts, both alive and not, speaking only in sighs–
I remember the touch of your hand, how it once anchored me,
How I clung to that warmth like a drowning man to memory,
But now the bed is an island, the sheets a cold shroud,
Every brush of skin an apology for a future neither of us is proud
To admit we want–familiarity standing in for devotion, routine for lust,
We buried our love beneath bills and dirty dishes, and called the ache “trust.”
Moonlight filters through curtains yellowed with time, painting our faces in borrowed silver,
Each night I hope for some spark, a reason to remember how to shiver,
But numbness wins, the body surrenders, the heart folds inward on itself,
Even your laughter–once a feast–has been shelved.
I wander through the rooms of our old joy, examining each empty alcove,
Every argument, every apology, every kiss that failed to resurrect what we let go of,
There is no resurrection here, no spell that can bring back what’s bled away,
Only the slow acceptance that love, like the moon, waxes then wanes, and then cannot stay.
I chase the memory of the first night, the taste of you raw and perfect in my mouth,
Hoping some echo will answer, some thread will hold, but every longing travels south,
Into the deep where light is forbidden, where what’s lost is devoured by need,
Still, I keep searching the sky for something bright, something that once made me believe
In the possibility of forever, in the fever of bodies that couldn’t bear to be apart,
But the only constancy now is the ache–the proof that longing outlives the heart.
We danced beneath a moonlit sky, drunk on hope, defiant, unwise,
Each movement a prayer, each gasp a refusal to see the truth in each other’s eyes,
Now I am left with the moon, its cold comfort illuminating the emptiness we grew,
Your light has vanished, your touch too far–
All that remains is the memory, sharp as a bruise, of what I once thought I knew.
I watch you from the far side of the bed, as you drift beyond the reach of my hand,
I count the breaths between us, the miles that grew without anyone making a stand,
Your voice is a radio left on dead air, your body a familiar shape that aches to touch,
But I can’t reach you; I can’t resurrect the feeling, can’t summon the rush.
I’m left chasing the last fragments–your light slipping further away each night,
Our love collapsing quietly,
Under a moon that outlives every fight.
The night we shared, wild and bright, is now only a story that hurts to recall,
A broken dream echoing down hallways lined with years we let fall,
A cold bed, a starless sky, and the undeniable fact that time always wins,
What once was ours is now only shadows, only reminders that nothing ever truly begins–
Not again, not in the way we crave, not in the way that once turned pain to pleasure,
Now, the only measure is loss: the distance between us,
And the moon,
Watching as the last of our light flickers out, with nothing left to treasure.
Your light is gone, your heart’s too far,
I chase a star already fallen, lost,
Our love, a vanished bruise,
And all that’s left
Is just the moon.