Love dances in the shadows,
a flicker of light,
but the brighter I hold on,
the more it fades—
like whispers lost in the wind.
Once, it bloomed,
bright as morning dew,
only to vanish
with a touch,
like a bubble popped,
fragile and fleeting.
I chase its shape,
soft against the wall,
but find only echoes,
and a longing that sighs,
as deep as the night.
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