Slipping Through My Hands

Cold streets whisper underneath the moon,

I’m chasing shadows that vanish too soon.

A blur in the night, I can feel where he stands,

But the closer I get, he slips through my hands.

A faceless guardian watching where I roam,

Masked eyes burning, but I’m still alone.

Dreams and memories,

Like smoke in the breeze,

Falling through my fingers, gone with ease.

He’s there, then he’s scattered,

Like waves on the strand—

Slipping through my hands, slipping through my hands.

I reach for the answers, but they fade away,

Echoes of a voice I can’t make stay.

Every step I take on this shifting land,

He lingers in the dark, slipping through my hands.

Is he my savior or just another ghost?

I feel him near me when I need him most.

Dreams and memories,

Like smoke in the breeze,

Falling through my fingers, gone with ease.

He’s there, then he’s scattered,

Like time’s drifting sands—

Slipping through my hands, slipping through my hands.

Maybe he’s the part of me I can’t control,

A shadow stitched into my soul.

If he’s the night, then I’m the spark he commands,

But I can’t hold him—

He keeps slipping through my hands.

Dreams and memories,

Like smoke in the breeze,

Vanishing before they can anchor me.

He’s near, but he’s fading,

Like waves on the strand—

Slipping through my hands, slipping through my hands.