Fleeting love Stories

I knew you but for a moment, though we had never met. We shared emotions, laughs, and sorrows. Our hearts had thus connected. You were far but felt so near. And before I knew it, I called you dear. We spoke, we laughed, we connected so much. And then, in a moment, it was gone. It was not. For you stepped away, unable to stay, The truth, too heavy, too sharp to convey. What bloomed too quickly burned too bright, And vanish...

It was the silence that convinced me. Not the hush of sleep, but the kind of silence that vibrates behind the ribs — a hollow, humid absence of human things. No engines, no phones, no voices. Just wind dragging across the sand like fingers through silk. I coughed, sea salt cracking on my lips. My tongue tasted of blood and brine. My skin felt like it belonged to someone else. I was sprawled face-down on a shore I couldn't...

You stood there, half in the light, half in the moment, the kind of presence that turns seconds into something else. Not fate—too grand. Not coincidence—too small. Just a blink of the universe winking at itself. The train doors slid open, a rush of wind, the smell of rain and metal, and for a moment, the city folded around us, wrapped us up in its noise, its indifference, but you— you looked at me like you had something t...