Thine eyes speak volumes,
every passing breath seems like a dream,
for which love has left and lost was found—
in your arms as we took a moonlight kiss.
But all has been swept away in a swift flick of the wrist,
goodbye till morrow comes where no words are amiss.
It was as if it was meant to be felt once and nothing more.
It was as if it was a soft summer breeze escaped from closed doors.
It was as if it was just a hum of the fingertips against your hair.
It was as if it was nothing else but a memory’s exhale of air.
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Tags: fiction, fleeting, literature, love, poem, poetry