You Song

The streetlights flicker Like dying fireflies. Your name's a ghost on the cold glass Of my mind. I trace the lines where your smile Used to be. A map I've memorized, But I'm lost at sea. But I hear you in the static, the frequency Low. A whisper that won't let me go. Won't let me go. Through the haze and the noise, I'm holding on To the echo of your song. Your song. We Built a world From paper And string. So fragile, it crumbled when the winds Started to sing. Now the pages are scattered. The blueprints are torn. But the blueprint of your touch, It's still warm. And I hear you in the static, the frequency Low. A whisper that won't let me go. Won't Let me go. Through the haze and the noise, I'm holding on To the echo of your song. Your song. Maybe silence isn't empty. Maybe it's just a pause. A breath before the next line. A moment Before The cause. If I listen close enough, past the Static and the strain, I might just catch the rhythm Where we meet again. Whispers in the static. Whispers in the static. Fading but not gone. Not gone.