PORTRAIT
By Vera Von Monika
I. The Frame
I trace the outline of your absence,
the subtle arch of shoulders,
the quiet curve of your hands
that never rested in mine.
Shadows bend across the walls,
folding into memories
that shimmer with things unsaid.
Each breath I take
presses against the space where you should be,
and the air holds your shape
long after you’ve gone.
II. The Colours
Indigo spills into copper,
gold slides into the dusk of your presence.
I mix longing with the ache of waiting,
and even as the pigments falter,
the canvas holds your echo,
trembling with the weight of us.
A hundred silent nights
fold into one brushstroke,
every shade carrying your warmth,
every shade betraying the distance
I cannot cross.
III. The Gaze
I watch you through the spaces between words,
through pauses that tremble
like breath on glass.
Your laughter bends the air around me,
a sculpture in motion
that I cannot touch.
If I lean closer,
will the portrait move?
Or am I forever suspended
in the frame of what could have been,
a witness to moments
that exist only in my hand?
IV. The Unfinished
Time refuses to still,
the lines blur, yet the picture remains.
I place my hand over your imagined skin,
tracing the tremor of your fingers
in air and memory alike.
The world moves on,
but here we are…
two shadows entangled,
a chiaroscuro of longing and restraint,
folded into the same space
where no one else may enter.
V. The Symphony
Every silence is a note,
every glance a chord I cannot reach.
The walls murmur with the weight of you,
the floor remembers the rhythm of your steps.
I compose a melody from absence,
turn it into music that only we can hear,
each vibration threading
through the pulse of my chest.
Even when the night swallows the light,
the song continues,
a resonance of us
that neither time nor distance can silence.
VI. The Signature
When the world turns its back,
I leave my mark in invisible ink,
a testament to the fire
we cannot name,
yet feel in every pulse,
every pause,
every pause between the strokes of our story.
And if someday this portrait fades,
know it was never meant to vanish…
it lives in every quiet corner,
every breath I exhale,
every moment I remember
that you exist in the frame
and always will.
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