You left without a word,
like the sun slipping behind the horizon,
leaving a shadow that stretches long and silent.
I wake with your name still echoing
in the hollow of my chest,
a ghost I can’t quite hold.
Your absence is a heavy rain,
pouring into cracks I didn’t know I had—
filling the spaces where hope once lived.
I try to forget the way your hands once held me,
but the memory is a wound that won’t close,
a scar I wear like a secret.
Love, you were a fire—and now I am ash,
scattered in the wind,
trying to breathe without you.
This house feels colder,
the walls whisper your name,
and I am learning to live with the quiet ache—
a silence that screams.
