كلمات The Last Frame Before You Left

You painted the air with silent storms Your eyes held maps of untold forms A flicker of something I couldn’t name Fading quick Like a match in rain You spoke in colors I couldn’t keep A language lost between wake and sleep The last frame before you left A moment caught Then it collapsed Like water slipping through my hands I reached for more But it was sand Your touch was a line I couldn’t trace A story folded into empty space The room still murmurs of your laugh But the echoes run too fast Too fast You lived in places the light won’t chase A fleeting world A fleeting face The last frame before you left A memory blurred Then it recessed Like fading ink on a weathered page I turned the corner You turned the age