Where Your Silence Lives

In the quiet after you,

the air itself remembers your name.

Every breath I take feels borrowed

from a life we once shared,

each shadow shaped

by the memory of your light.

You were not a moment 

you were the meaning of them all.

Your laughter, the rhythm my heart learned to keep;

your eyes, the sunrise I woke for.

Now even the wind feels foreign,

for it carries no trace of you.

When the world turned cruel and cold,

your hand was my sanctuary.

You stood beside me 

steady, fierce, unyielding 

and in that presence,

I learned what love meant.

But you walked beyond the veil of forever,

and I, left on this side of silence,

reach out to nothing

and call it your name.

Your absence is not emptiness 

it is everything that once was whole.

Time moves like a ghost through me,

touching every scar you left behind.

I still find you

in the hush between heartbeats,

in the shimmer of stars that never fade,

in the ache that refuses to heal.

At the stairway of no return,

I wait where your footsteps ended.

In the fire of memory, you rise 

a flame I cannot hold,

a love I cannot lose.

You are gone,

and yet, you are everything that remains.