late-night confessions

How do you go back to passing by,  

eyes that once held echoes of late-night confessions,  

laughter tangled between fingertips,  

whispers that softened the sharpest silences?  

How do you unwrite a name carved deep,  

unlearn the warmth of a voice in the dark,  

forget the way their presence  

once fit into the quiet spaces of your life?  

Do you nod politely, as if your hands  

never mapped each other's scars?  

Do you smile, as if your hearts  

never spoke in unguarded verses?  

Perhaps you walk away,  

not with anger, not with regret,  

but with the weight of knowing—  

some souls are meant to touch,  

then turn back to shadows.