The Dying Echo Remains
A voice once warm now fades into the stone,
Its last confession lost to bitter air.
The walls remember, though I stand alone—
An echo hums where once you whispered care.
Your shadow drips from dusk like melting snow,
Too soft to grasp, too cold to let me be.
I call your name in vain, but even so,
The echo answers—never truly me.
Each breath I take rings with all you've left,
A haunting hymn in chords of ash and glass.
My heart, half-buried, slow and stripped and cleft,
Repeats your name like prayers that will not pass.
You are not gone, yet never near you stay—
An echo caught between the dark and day.
Copyright © Bernard F. Asuncion | Year Posted 2025
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