Echoes in the Haze

Tangled Up in Blue We met by a river, or maybe a crowded street, the exact light fading, the year doesn't matter much now. You were talking to someone, a shadow maybe, or just to yourself, and something about the way you moved pulled me in, a current I couldn't fight. Later, in a borrowed room, the city lights blurring through dusty panes, we traced old stories on each other's skin, unfolding maps of past lives, promises whispered into the quiet hum of the refrigerator, or was it the late-night train? I remember you working down on the docks, the smell of salt and diesel on your clothes, or was that a dream? And me, chasing ghosts through library stacks, or maybe just chasing a feeling I couldn't quite name. We drifted, like smoke from different fires, across continents, across arguments, the world spinning faster than we could hold it. One time, I saw you walking, or thought I did, in a rain-slicked alley, your face a flicker in the passing headlights, and my heart seized, a knot tangled up in blue, still. Sometimes, I wonder what you're doing now, if the dust has settled on those old roads, if the truth of us ever found its way home. The memories, they don't sit still, they shimmer and shift, each telling a different tale, but always, always, leading back to that same elusive hue. The feeling, deep inside, still tangled up in blue.