A memorial murmurs as the night breeze softly weaves through the fractures of the heart.
Memories resonate and persist within a memoir, commemorating a melancholy farewell.
The sunset we once painted with vibrant hues gradually dims and vanishes into the night,
consumed by darkness.
Your laughter was a sweet symphony — it once graced the air, and I inhaled it to enrich my life.
But now, the silence grew teeth, and it began to eat me.
Within the expansive realm of memory, the blades of grass disintegrate one by one, expressing a deep and sombre longing. I lie awake at the edge of the bed, surrounded by growing silence.
The pulse of passion delicately caresses our memories,
ready to be refined.
Your hand, once warm in mine, is now cold.
Stories are written — but left untold.
You depart, guided by a ray of light,
leaving behind an unfillable emptiness —
a void that the moon silently observes
as it gathers my tears.
Lying alone in the bed we used to share, the pain of your absence becomes a heavy shroud.
Amidst quiet grief, my heart cries out loud.
Yet, within the vast realm of existence, your essence lingers on —
as an emblem of everlasting love.
And the stars that illuminate the sky, guiding my heart across the expanse of your affection.
She remains, despite her physical absence.
The gentle morning breeze is a humble testament to her love,
easing the weight of my yearning.
The death of a lover — a dreadful incarceration.
But true love endures in the echo of pain.
