How strange,
that the heart can still hope
even after it's been taught not to.
A name unspoken. A laugh unheard.
Two echoes wandering different silences.
One hides behind smoke and scar.
The other, behind flame and fear.
One never asked for a hand.
The other didn't care.
So could it be true?
Could warmth still reach,
even if it's a monster reaching back?