The rain falls soft on empty streets,
A grey wash over memory's feats.
The cafe's warm, but warmth can't reach,
The hollow space where laughter breached.
A single cup, a silent chair,
The ghost of you still lingers there.
The scent of coffee, bittersweet,
A fading echo, incomplete.
The clock ticks on, a steady beat,
Marking the time we'll never meet.
And in the quiet, I remain,
Lost in the drizzle, and the pain.