That girl’s still dancing in my midnight screen
I’m talking to the moon, relaying every scene
Silver echo answers, “She ain’t really gone—
she’s the lyric you keep humming when the world turns wrong.”
I replay her laughter, lo-fi in my head,
beam it through the dark like a signal never read;
till cratered tides reflect her eyes back into mine,
and moonlight edits heartbreak into softer lines.