I sewed words into your skin,
engraving my name where time cannot erase.
I touched your lips without hearing your moans,
for there was no sound capable of stopping me.
I delighted in your flesh,
and there, where your warmth consumed me,
I sacrificed what was left of me.

Desire. Love. Sin.
The moment between us shattered time,
made the dark a home, the abyss a temple,
but in the end, we were just a match struck in the wind.

I still feel your body in my hands,
your taste on my tongue,
your breath against my chest.
But I am just a shadow in the empty room,
the warm breath on your neck
when the night swallows the silence.
A ghost that never left,
because, even without a name,
I still burn on your skin.