Love’s Fleeting Embrace

Once, they stood side by side— seamless in the way only new things can be. Whole. Untouched. The world stretched out before them, roads unworn, possibilities endless. They had been something solid. Something meant to last.

But time has a way of working its fingers into even the strongest foundations. Tiny fractures at first, almost invisible— words left unsaid, glances that lasted a second too long, or not long enough.

Then deeper fissures. The kind that catch the light just right and make people wonder: Were they always there?

They tried to hold on. Tried to ignore the weight pressing down, the slow erosion of what once felt permanent. But love, like everything else, is subject to gravity. To pressure. To the slow, inevitable breaking apart.

Now they remain— two halves barely touching. Worn down. Weathered. Cracked by years and silence.

The space between them is small, but impassable. A ghost of what once was.

And yet, even in ruin, they still stand together.