“Fear’s Embrace”

Love is not fire but a brittle flame

that trembles in the hollow of cold rooms,

hearts offered not for desire

but for the hunger that silence gnaws deep within.

To hold another is to clutch ghosts,

to cradle shadows thinking they are warmth,

to speak promises that shiver

like candlelight against the walls of night.

Eyes meet but never see the soul,

smiles bloom like frost on the skin,

company drifts through ribs like winter wind,

and in the end, the warmth we chased

is only the echo of our own phantom longing,

a soft ache that whispers:

we are alone, always,

even when we reach for each other.