Echoes in the Dark

My chest holds echoes none can hear, A hush of thoughts that won’t appear. What once was warm now drifts like mist, A weight unseen, too dense to lift. Each fracture blooms a quieter scar, Where bitter seeds still grow afar. No shore, no flame, no sense of tide— Just vacant halls I roam inside. By day I wear a borrowed face, By night I vanish into space. Thorns have grown where roses laid, And joy, like wind, has slipped away. I feel the pull to slip below, To whisper what I’ll never show. My voice is dust; it meets no ear— A silent scream no one can hear. You shimmer still within my dusk, A faded gleam in memory’s husk. I dream we speak as once we did— Before the cold began to bid. No bitterness could take your place; You linger deep, a shadow’s grace. But where you stood, now hollow lies— A soul grown thin beneath the skies. One truth remains, untouched by time: A trace of you, forever mine. A tether neither blade nor night Could sever from this ghostly light. Am I undone, or just concealed? A mask of calm, a truth unsealed. Not hate, nor wrath, I seek to wield— Just peace in ground that’s never healed. The tales of joy and sorrow, pain and grace, Are etched within the lines upon the face. The laughter lingering in a quiet space, The love that time can never displace. Now rest descends like stars in velvet skies, A peaceful calm that soothes the weary mind. The soul prepares to lift and softly rise, Leaving the weight of years behind. A long life’s journey finds its final spark— The whispered echo, soft in the dark.