In The Wind Of My Longing

I drift, a leaf untethered, caught in the breath of a distant storm. The wind carries whispers of your name, a melody I thought was ours, a thread of light woven through the fabric of my hope. But the wind has no allegiance, no home. It carries promises, illusions, the weight of your gaze that once anchored me now splinters into fragments. I search for myself in the places you touched me--- the hollow of my chest, the trembling of my hands. Each piece scattered like sand spilling through fingers that ones dared to hold on. You were the horizon I could never reach, a mirage in the heat of my longing, shimmering, breaking. And yet, the wind called me forward. I thought it was your voice. Now in the quiet of the storm's eye, Iam only the echo of my own longing, aching in the spaces you left. The wind moves on, but I remain. Tattered, unmoored, a fragment of who I was in the wind of my longing.