A Written Goodbye
I’m not a reader, but you’re the story I chose to keep.
Your eyes—luminous—offered a kind of peace, a healing deep.
I still have the flowers you gave me that day—
Do you remember the soft apologies when your replies came late?
I know someday, we'll have to part,
But still, I’ll carry your name etched in my heart.
When I lie on my deathbed, searching the skies for something true,
It’s your voice I’ll hear, whispering the secrets I always knew.
