Torn Strings

He hums with her, a cadence obscure, An echo I chase, yet cannot secure. Her visage kindles his celestial hue, Whilst I wane, veiled from view. Her essence weaves his daylight's thread, While I dissolve, a wraith instead. He drinks from her stream of ease divine, While I am left with brine for wine. Yet rooted I remain, though fissures spread, Clinging to shards of love long fled. My core whispers for his orbit's sway, To claim me as the dawn of day. I mark their bond, steadfast, replete, And wonder—am I debris at his feet? The specter who lingers, despite the sting, Dreaming his heart might someday swing. For even in shadows, I claim this plight, Yearning for whispers of his light. A tether frail, yet forged in fire, I endure, though it dims desire.