Phantom Embrace

In midnight’s hush, where silence clings,

And shadows stretch with velvet wings,

I feel it there—your quiet trace,

The ghost of love, your phantom embrace.

No breeze disturbs the heavy air,

Yet something lingers—soft, aware.

A whisper brushes past my face,

A chill that knows your secret place.

I reach, but grasp at fading light,

Like chasing dreams that flee the night.

You’re nowhere near, and yet so close,

A memory wrapped in moonlit ghost.

The scent of rain, the floorboard’s creak,

The way I hear you when I speak.

Your laugh—a ripple in the glass,

Your breath—just wind that doesn’t pass.

I swore I’d let you go that day,

But echoes never drift away.

They loop like songs in hollow halls,

And haunt the cracks in crumbling walls.

You linger where the roses grew,

Between the reds and midnight blue.

In every petal, soft and still,

I feel your warmth, against my will.

A phantom's touch—no arms, no skin,

But deeper than the blood within.

A presence wrapped in woven lace,

I close my eyes… your phantom face.

It’s not the dead that haunt the soul,

But love unclaimed, that never’s whole.

A kiss that died mid-air, unseen,

A promise trapped in might-have-been.

Some say move on, forget the ache,

Let new love bloom, let old hearts break.

But how can I erase the fire

When ashes still pulse with desire?

So let me keep this sweet despair,

This not-quite-touch, this ghostly care.

I’ll light a candle, just in case

You come again—my phantom embrace.