Fading Footprints

I walk through the wreckage of yesterday, where dust clings to the stories left behind, where love once grew between the cracks, now scattered like forgotten time. A bow, a sculpture, a fraying sheet— fingers once traced these fragile lines. A cabinet where life was left to wither, a wall where a child etched his light. Every corner whispers secrets, the echoes of laughter and late-night fights. A hand raised, a voice breaking, a boy who learned to stand against the tide. But memory is a fragile thing, reshaped by hands that never held. Who rewrote love as a bitter tale, and stole the warmth we once had felt? I walk, but the footprints fade, buried beneath years of silence cold. Yet even if the world forgets, I keep us here, still whole.