A Murmur of Us
I step into you—
a world rebuilt from my breath and your memory,
the soft hum of a hummingbird’s wings guiding me in between,
each breath a bridge across time and absence.
Where the fog breathes backward,
unraveling itself into light.
Streets rise from your ashes,
our threads pulled taut through beams and bricks.
Bergamot and musk coiling through the air.
I walk, my fingers brushing walls,
like a match—our glow flickering in every window,
our memories playing like shadows on the facades, brief and luminous.
At the edge of town,
cobblestones fade into the woods you loved—
birch tangled with patchouli.
You wait, eyes tracing the path I take,
this moment held in your gaze for eternity.
Your hand no longer smoke, meets mine,
feeling every pulse I never knew you held.
Our fingers interlace,
and I finally know you.
The wildflowers that once blackened
uncurl, stretching toward our touch,
color seeping back into our fragile veins.
Your secrets, long buried under fear and sorrow,
spill into my soul,
your fingertips tracing my answer in the curve of my lips.
We walk together—
the earth trembles beneath us,
a heartbeat brought to life.
And in that moment,
our love gathers shape.
A child, soft and fragile,
coos in the hollow of your arms,
tiny fingers curling around mine,
eyes like rain-soaked skies,
breath soft as the wings of a moth,
pressing life into this world.
A murmur of us.
Here, we are whole—
alive in the space between breath and shadow.
Tasting the sweetness of a world that never existed,
cradling what we never held,
the ache softening just enough
to believe it could be real.
Leaves rustle in the distance.
A deer appears, eyes like lanterns—
luminous, unnatural.
A chill seeps through the soil,
birch weeping sap like captured tears.
Smoke rises, sweet and bruised,
the air thick with musk and memory.
It moves like fog, curling around your shape.
The trees whisper, crack,
embers blooming like secrets in the fog.
The scorched sweetness of bergamot and patchouli clings to me,
a lingering perfume of phantom love, charred in the air,
worn without ever knowing.
I reach for you as our sweet Amaryllis
melts into the haze,
fingers closing on nothing
but echoes of what never was.
Birch pillars collapse under the weight of truth.
Even the wind holds its breath,
listening as I whisper
the words I should have said when you were still flesh.
I am left among the ruins,
haunted by your whisper,
the murmur of our love.
Tears pour in a torrent,
carving hollows in the earth,
drowning the ground beneath me
until a pond forms at my feet,
a mirror of sorrow trembling under the weight of my grief.
My face pale, my body hollow,
eyes wide with longing and recognition—
and behind me
I see you waiting,
one hand reaching for me, the other cradling her,
the murmur of us,
soft and breathing in this impossible space.
A flicker of light against the dark.
The air grows heavy with promise.
I close my eyes.
Breath falls from my chest.
I step further into you—
deeper into the hum.
Water rises around my ankles.
The pond pulls at me,
cool fingers tracing my skin,
drawing me beneath the surface,
reflection rippling with every heartbeat,
until I am submerged in cold clarity.
I am finally with you,
in the hush
between one heartbeat and the next.
Our love, our child—
the life we never lived—
fold into eternity,
forever a ghost story
whispered back to me.
