this hollow that haunts her yesterdays
is only the ache of desires left undone.
(Where are your promises?)
Like velvet kisses,
brushed on soft skin,
lingering,
caressing.
Like spring’s first blossoms
after the long cold of winter,
do they rise from dreams?
Twinges of pain,
the quiet shade of hope,
become her only faithful friend.
Maybe,
in heaven,
not here.
(Wan, R., Aug 2025 Chatgpt edit from Wan, R., May 26, 2020)
