Last Night of Love

The moon glows, gentle on the quiet street,

Soft light weaving gold on tangled sheets,

We lie side by side, but worlds apart,

Each heartbeat ticking toward the start

Of something ending, yet so sweetly slow—

The last night of love: how deep it goes.

Your breaths are verses in a silent song,

Whispered promises now fading, gone.

Our hands remember when touch meant more,

Now fingers linger, unsure, and sore.

Outside the window, the city hums,

A world oblivious to what we become.

Memories rise between us, soft as mist—

The first laugh shared, the first trembling kiss.

Do you remember the rain on that neon night,

When splashes caught the street’s blue light?

Or that late July, too hot to sleep,

We traced our dreams while secrets seeped?

Tonight, words scatter like petals on ground,

We say more in silence than when there’s sound.

I watch your eyes search shadows for hope,

But the truth is gentle: we’ve gone, we’ve grown.

Still, we hold tight, afraid to let go,

Hoping for warmth from what we used to know.

This is the last night we twist our fates,

Moonlight reflecting love’s closing gates.

I memorize how your lashes curl,

How silence feels in a vanishe world.

We hold hands, remembering laughter and tears,

Both survivors of these tender, wilting years.

Our room fills with what-ifs and might-have-beens—

Scenes that flicker behind tired, glimmering screens.

You sigh, and memory drifts sweet and clear:

All our love and the pain end here.

But there’s beauty, too, in letting things end,

In finding peace where we can’t pretend.

Sunrise will bring the start of new days,

But I’ll keep this moment: quiet, ablaze.

Final whispers hang soft in dusty air,

A gentle promise that once, we cared.

We say goodbye with trembling lips, no sound,

Dreams scatter, but hope is still around.

Love’s last night isn’t just about goodbye—

It’s about holding on, even as we let fly.

I’ll carry you forward, like a shell carries sea,

Forever a part of the whole of me.

Thank you for laughter, for lessons, for light,

For making the darkness a little less night.

So here’s to the last night that memories prove—

There’s always another, somewhere, last night of love.