I woke to rooms where voices slept,
No laughter left where joy once wept.
The chairs still stood, the shoes were lined,
But all the souls, they’d left behind.
A stillness deeper than the grave,
A silence I could never brave.
Their shadows clung to walls and doors,
Like echoes on forgotten shores.
I called their names, the air stood still,
The grief, a ghost I couldn’t ****
Their cups untouched, their beds not made,
The sun rose slow, then quickly faded.
How strange the world, to keep on turning,
While every part of me is burning.
The air too full of things unsaid,
The weight of all the living dead.
No final word, no last goodbye,
Just sudden space beneath the sky.
And in this house, both full and hollow,
I learn that grief is mine to swallow.
But even now, their love remains—
In photographs, in dreams, in rain.
They left, but I still see them near,
In memory sharp, in every tear.
Jun 10, 2025
Jun 10, 2025 at 1:06 PM UTC
I woke to rooms where voices slept,
No laughter left where joy once wept.
The chairs still stood, the shoes were lined,
But all the souls, they’d left behind.
A stillness deeper than the grave,
A silence I could never brave.
Their shadows clung to walls and doors,
Like echoes on forgotten shores.
I called their names, the air stood still,
The grief, a ghost I couldn’t ****
Their cups untouched, their beds not made,
The sun rose slow, then quickly faded.
How strange the world, to keep on turning,
While every part of me is burning.
The air too full of things unsaid,
The weight of all the living dead.
No final word, no last goodbye,
Just sudden space beneath the sky.
And in this house, both full and hollow,
I learn that grief is mine to swallow.
But even now, their love remains—
In photographs, in dreams, in rain.
They left, but I still see them near,
In memory sharp, in every tear.
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