In the end, the silence screams louder than we ever did,
neon rain burns the script we wrote on our skin;
every promise folds into paper cranes, drowning in the gutter of dawn.
I still hear your laugh echo through broken headphones,
a ghost frequency I chase down these empty avenues.
We were just two shadows trading sparks,
but the night swallowed the bridge between our palms.
Now I wear the vacancy like a second heart,
beating in sync with the flicker of expired streetlights—
still waiting for the crash that already came.