Velvet Static

The city never sleeps.
But I do.
In pieces.
In loops.
In velvet static.
You left your name written in fog
On the glass of my memory.
And every time it rains,
I remember how you didn't stay.
I talk to your ghost in hotel mirrors.
It answers in a language I forgot.
"No era amor… era la forma más bonita de sangrar."
Maybe this is what love becomes
When no one's looking
A whisper behind locked lips.
A sigh under streetlight shadows.
A confession
No one asked for.