Days twist into each other,
A labyrinth of veiled intentions.
Your absence—
a wound stitched with whispered silence,
and I, caught in the mesh of longing,
stand on the edge of an unspoken cliff.

There is a pact in our parting,
blood bound and unsentimental,
etched in the very fabric of shared nights
and the wasted mornings of coffee-stained rebellion.

Your...