"at the fireplace "

At the fireplace, midnight. — your picture burns away, Memories unravel into smoke, fading where they lay. Ash collects the promises you swore would never die, But now they’re hollow whispers, drifting toward the sky. Your lighthouse once lit up my nights, but only gave me pain, I kept my wounds like secrets, wore the silent rain. I begged you not to leave, but you were stepping back, And still I ran on shattered glass, barefoot down the track. If not for the echo of your sweet, familiar tone, I might have let the darkness claim me, left the world alone. Stars kept falling, slow and bright, as if for me to see, I wished on every single one you’d find your way to me. But I can’t hold a ghost; I’m only breaking more, The door you left is open wide — I won’t guard it anymore. At the fireplace, midnight — your picture turns to dust, Our love a fragile ruin, swallowed by mistrust. The fire hums of promises that never found their way, And all that’s left between us is smoke and empty gray. at the fireplace ...