The Echo of Your Last Glance

Do you believe in echoes, a lingering touch of moments passed?
Sometimes, when the city sleeps and only the faintest light filters through the blinds, I remember the way your gaze felt – hesitant, yet searching. It was at that small jazz club, wasn't it? The one with the chipped paint and even more broken dreams.
We barely spoke, just a shared glance across the room. But in those silent seconds, there was a story untold, a universe of unspoken possibilities swirling between us.
I often wonder if you feel it too – this strange pull, this melancholic resonance of what could have been. Perhaps it's foolish to dwell on such fleeting connections, but some echoes are simply too beautiful to fade away. They linger in the quiet corners of my heart, a gentle reminder of a warmth that once was... or perhaps, still is.
I trace the patterns on my skin sometimes, these intricate designs… they were born from a time I needed to feel connected to something permanent when everything around me felt transient. Ironically, it's in remembering your eyes that I find a different kind of permanence.

Editor: South Wind