Auguste Romain Nyecki Poet Free verse

Beneath the Notes

I hid a firefly,
its wings beating against the low strings
like a secret refusing winter.

Your “I love you”s are no longer words;
they have taken the shape of tiny silver fish
crossing my nights, leaving behind them
a trail of crumpled moonlight.

I gather them in a chipped cup,
near the window where the rain writes
alphabets no one can pronounce.

The last notes never truly die.
They simply change their calling:
some become stardust on sleeves,
others keep watch over the lighthouses of sleeping ships.

I answer with my silences,
those transparent birds nesting in my throat.
They know your name better than my voice does.

When dawn unfolds its nautical charts,
I find your refrain beneath the skin of my fears,
in the hum of weary streetlamps,
in an orange forgotten on the table,
in the tiny heart of ordinary things.

I love you too,
not like a promise,
but like an underground river
that keeps singing far from prying eyes.

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