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White Nights by Fyodor Dostoevsky
5.0

BOOK 43 
WHITE NIGHTS [fyodor dostoyevsky]
......................................................................................

i, a shadow moving quietly through the world. 
you, a flicker of light in the hush of my undoing. 
and us, a fleeting constellation
drawn across the white nights.

i long to believe i was only dreaming, 
that none of it was real,
that the weight you left was only mist, 
a phantom pressed to my chest.

because how strange,
that in just a handful of nights, 
you felt more true than anything i've ever known. 
and how cruel, 
that even now,
you still echo 
in the hollows i hide.

and though we've come apart, 
though morning has taken you back, 
still i carry:

that in this life, 
under the same stars, 
i was once seen. 
and for a moment, 
i was not alone.