the morning was colder, silent
the most quiet i remember
*she had been the heartbeat
that brought a room warmth*
our steps were now dark
filled in reminiscing, melancholy rhythms
*her face watched from the walls still
perfume permeated into tears*
where was this place, that felt like a
long sigh of remorse and regret
the what should have beens',
what we could have dones'
what needed to be said
still without a shape
where could fate take us from now
fleeting from our very eyes
*the implication held in her absence
there was no lie to be found*
this morning, even if we begged
time wouldn't be put on the shelf
not for an hour, not for two
would time give us a passing glance
*fate never clasped to pity nor sorrow
she simply swept by those time paralyzed*
and we were blaming everything
that could possibly hold weight
the night that lasted too long
the dawn that rose too late
*the silence that had enveloped her
before truth took shape*