The reels hum soft nostalgia
dust twirls in golden beams;
we sit inside the shadows
of everyone’s old dreams
Onscreen a kiss is timeless
offscreen our hands are cold;
reality is cheaper
but fantasy more bold
Popcorn becomes communion
each crunch a minor vow;
the credits roll like prayers—
we linger anyhow
Outside the lights are amber
the street a moving stage—
we walk home still believing
that love outlasts the age