We were constellation logicβ
Fire and air and steel and storm,
A promise whispered by our stars
To ignite and rebuild something more.
We were blueprint loversβ
The kind they warn about in books,
All chemistry and prophecy
And none of the damn elbow grease it took.
We were what-almost-worked.
What should-have-been.
What might have turned gold
If you had shown up as a man
And not just as a myth.
Because I was the crucible.
The hearth.
The whole damn temple.
You?
You wanted warmth without fire,
Depth without flood,
Devotion without the mirror.
You mistook the blueprint for the house.
You mistook access for entry.
Me?
I build real.
And I do not leave the light on for ghosts.
