We danced once—
drunk on autumn and pumpkin coffee—
your bare feet kicking up stars,
a laugh caught in the trees like wind in needles
Even the stars blinked slower,
unsure if they should stay or fall—

The breeze smelled like cinnamon
and your hair brushed my cheek—
soft as a secret,
like you were telling me something
without saying a word.

I held you
not to possess,
but to memorize—
every tremble,
each breathless loop
of your hand through mine.

The night,
warm as breath,
held us in its soft pocket
until we were more joy than body—
until time forgot
where we began.

Now,
when the days burn down early
and the air is thick with burnt spice and smoke,
I carry the heat of you—
not in my hands,
but somewhere deeper than skin.