You leave
Every time our bodies meet, the world dissolves—
two souls suspended in time, hovering in golden light.
Your skin brushes mine and lightning blooms beneath the surface,
a wild, sacred fire that sets the air trembling.
We move like rivers rushing into the sea,
electrifying, endless, the sweetest ache I’ve ever known—
your touch a velvet storm, your breath a hymn against my throat.
In those suspended hours, I am alive in ways language fails,
hearts colliding soft as silk and fierce as falling stars,
lost in the heat where nothing else has ever reached me.
You make me whole, trembling, glowing, undone.
Then you leave.
And the suspension shatters.
The door closes like a tomb sealing shut,
and I collapse into ruins, beautiful and broken.
My heart bleeds slow across the sheets we warmed together,
crimson rivers carving canyons through my chest.
I curl into the hollow you left behind,
whispering your name into shadows that swallow sound.
My soul yearns—raw, desperate, clawing at the emptiness—
a wild bird beating against the cage of my ribs,
begging for the spark of your fingers tracing fire on my skin once more.
Oh, how cruel this beauty is.
In your absence, I am a wilted garden under midnight rain,
petals bruised and trembling, roots thirsting for the storm only you bring.
The silence screams where your heartbeat used to echo,
and every breath tastes of salt and longing.
I’d trade eternity for one more suspended moment—
skin to skin, souls entwined outside of time—
even if it means this exquisite wreckage when you go.
Come back to me, my love, though loving you destroys.
I wait here bleeding, yearning, suspended in the dark,
a fragile flame flickering for the touch that makes me burn.
Without you, I am only echoes and embers—
beautiful in my ruin, forever calling your name.
Copyright © Cristyna Small | Year Posted 2026
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