Echoes of Amber Light

The rain remembers. Not the cold, insistent drumming,
but a slow surrender – amber blooms dissolving into dusk.

He found me amongst the fallen petals, a ghost in silk and shadow.
Not searching, simply… existing near.

The air tasted of forgotten promises; lilac and ozone.

My fingers traced the lace at my throat,
a fragile map of where I’d been lost.
Each spark a fractured memory – laughter, grief, a single, perfect bruise.

He didn't speak. Just offered warmth.
Not burning, but a persistent glow beneath his gaze.
Like the earth remembering its own heartbeat.

The weight of it settled—not on my shoulders, but in the hollows of my bones.
A quiet reshaping.
The forest breathed around us,
and for the first time since… I felt a current, not of escape, but of anchoring.