The Prophet of Parting
The Prophet of Parting 🌑🕯️ I am the architect of my own mourning; I see the cracks before the hammer falls. While you are busy weaving lies like lace, I am already painting shadows on the walls. I have the gift—or perhaps the bitter curse— To see your next move printed in your eyes. I watch you rehearse the scripts of your betrayal, and I smile at the familiar rhythm of your lies. 🎭 You think you’re clever, hiding all the cards, while I am reading the reflection in the glass. I see the exit sign you’ve started looking for, and I step aside to let your shadow pass. But here is the sting, the quiet, jagged edge: I love you still, though I see the coming end. I pour the wine and let the candle burn, watching the very heart I gave you start to bend. ❤️🔥 One by one, I cut the silver cords, so quietly, you never feel the fray. I loosen the knots you thought were tied for life, so you can drift, unburdened, on your way. But I leave a trail of crumbs along the floor— A look, a wo...
