The Road and Her Shadow

I’ve walked roads with no names,
where the sky forgets the sun,
and the wind carries the sound of hearts breaking.
I’ve stood at the edge of longing,
watching her shadow move like smoke—
always close, but never mine.

She speaks in riddles,
her laughter a melody meant for another man’s ears,
but still, I listen,
still, I dream of her fingertips
tracing the map of my scars.

In her presence, I am undone,
a soldier laying down his sword,
a storm whispering its secrets to the sea.
Her beauty is not soft—it burns,
searing through my doubts,
leaving me ash and renewal.

If I were wise, I’d walk away.
But wisdom is a coward in the face of her gaze,
and I am no philosopher—
just a man chasing shadows.

If love is a road, then I am the traveler,
forever bound to follow
the fading sound of her footsteps.

~A Wanderer’s Soliloquy