The Image of Us

It was all the image we painted in our courtship —
A fleeting sketch of whispers and warmth,
And now, that’s all that’s left of you and me,
Etched in the quiet corners of my soul.

Today, you are someone else,
And I — a stranger to the one I used to be.
But the image of you, the one you carved in me,
Lingers — soft, stubborn, and unyielding.

A journey of just a few steps,
Yet it stretched across my heart like an endless road.
And now this memory overshadows me,
Gives me something — and takes away everything.

But tell me this — was it ever truly love,
This ache, this longing that remains?
Do I miss you, or the image I wove —
Of who you were, and who I hoped you’d be?