Slipped Away Poem by Za7ra Sulaiman

She never said goodbye—just slipped away,
like twilight bleeding into day.
No warning—just a breath she stole,
and left behind a lesser soul.

A song cut short mid-aching note,
the kind that catches in your throat.
Not silence—no, she left a hum,
a memory where words won't come.

Now in his dreams—he speaks her not,
for names can rot what time forgot.
He sits beside the echo's edge,
his longing balanced on a ledge.

He holds the stillness—bends the air,
as if she might reappear there.
As if a whisper soft and low
might call her back from long ago.

He tastes her on the morning light,
still woven in his sheets at night.
He feels her shadow in the heat,
her ghost still dancing in his beat.

She touched him once—then touched no more,
but left her scent behind the door.
Her fingerprints, like sacred ink,
still cling to every time he blinks.

She ruined him—in subtle ways—
turned minutes into endless days.
And though she's gone—he's still not free,
from all the ways she used to be.

He prays—without a god to hear—
just folds her name inside his fear.
And every dawn—he starts to weep—
still loving what he couldn't keep.