In a field where dusk is breathing, under skies of molten rose, Two skeletons sit side by side where every wildflower grows. Their hands, though bone, are woven tight, a quiet, endless vow, For even when the flesh is gone, love lingers in the now. The sun sinks low behind their spines, a halo made of flame, It crowns them in a tender light that whispers out their name. The clouds blush pink with every sigh the distant heavens weave, As if the stars themselves recall the promises they leave. Above, a crescent moon leans down, a silver, watching eye, It cradles them in gentle glow as day dissolves in sky. The night begins to hum a song of all that never dies, Of beating hearts that turned to dust but never said goodbyes. They do not need a pulse to feel the warmth between their ribs, For love has slipped past mortal clocks and broken every crib. Their laughter once was flesh and sound, now silent, soft, and deep, A memory the universe has chosen not to sleep. Here, time forgets to measure them, the seasons lose their claim, No winter wind can strip away what never learned of shame. Their bones may crack, the flowers fade, the sky may change its hue, But love has stitched their souls as one in everlasting glue. So let the galaxies collapse, let oceans turn to sand, Let history rewrite itself and cities lose their land. Still, in this field of fading light beneath the tender moon, Two skeletons will sit and prove that love outlives the tomb. For love is more than breath or blood, more vast than life or death, It lingers in the empty space between each borrowed breath. And when the world is finally still, its stories said and done, Their bones will glow with all the dawns where two were always one. Written by https://www.threads.com/@voltaires_inkwell This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit anureetwrites.substack.com
