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341
The Ink Of Us
<p>My dearest,</p><p><br/></p><p>I write to you as if every word were carved out of what’s left of my heart. I’ve tried to let time bury your name under its dust, but every night it rises again, like a ghost that refuses peace.</p><p><br/></p><p>You live in my mind as sunlight filtered through a storm, distant, unreachable, yet still capable of warmth. I hate that I still know the rhythm of your voice, the way you’d breathe before saying something you thought might hurt me. I would let it hurt again, just to feel you again.</p><p><br/></p><p>The world has moved on, but I remain here, a monument to what we ruined. I keep imagining futures where we made it, where our laughter aged with us, where the silence between us finally turned to peace instead of pain. But love, if love it still is, is crueler than any fate I can imagine. It keeps me alive just enough to miss you. It gives me breath, only to choke me with memories.</p><p><br/></p><p>Tonight, as I write this, I think of you, not as you were, not as you are, but as you might have been if we’d found a way to hold on. Maybe, in another life, that version of us still exists, unbroken, unafraid. I hope they remember us kindly.</p><p><br/></p><p>Yours, in every timeline we never had……..</p><p><br/></p>
The Ink Of Us
By
Nimmat
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