A Promise Not Mine to Break

I see her in the quiet hours, where echoes of laughter still reside, each memory a ghost of warmth, a flicker of what once felt alive. She was everything— a song unsung, a dream untouched, but fate had carved another path, and love is not a thing to clutch. I do not beg, I do not plead, for promises are walls of stone. Yet still, her touch, her voice, her light— they haunt the spaces I call home. I do not wish to change her mind, nor steal what isn’t meant for me. But oh, the way her eyes once danced, remains a truth I cannot free. She was mine in fleeting moments, before the world pulled her away. And though desire sets me burning, I will not beg for her to stay.