She walked in like a question
but the room had already answered.
Every shadow held its breath—
even the wine knew her name.
She called it a mistake.
I called it music.
The storm outside
merely turned the page.
She walked in like a question
but the room had already answered.
Every shadow held its breath—
even the wine knew her name.
She called it a mistake.
I called it music.
The storm outside
merely turned the page.