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My chest keeps echoes no one hears, what once was warm now sweeps as mist, a weight unseen, too dense to lift. Each crack leaves marks that melts yet roots begin to breathe beneath the soil. But where you bore, now empty lies, a soul planted thin beneath the skies. At early bright, I wear a stranger's smile. At night, I drifts a lonely mile. The roses died but the thorns still remain... and the joy slipped out without a name. I feel the yank to sink beneath, to whisper words, my mouth won't speak. My voice is dust, it melts to stone, a quiet scream that dies alone. You glimmer faint in twilight's haze, a scar that kept from golden days. I dream of us the way we were, before the quiet did arise. One truth remains through changing skies; a trace of you that never dies. No blade and no bleak could cut apart the quiet thread that ties my heart. Am I unmade or only veiled? A gentle quiet where the glow feels lost, no flare ignites and no I'll will takes carry. Only a calm that meanders through the horizons. Now rest plunges as starlight falls a tender serene that softens all. The spirit arise. The tonnage gone. The years melt their grip restrained. The years vanish and the pain is gone but something brighter lingers on. In endless night, the spirit glows- a long life ends yet deeper grows.

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