The bed no longer holds your smell,
and my hand reaches
for what is no longer there.
I have forgotten
the taste of your lips.
Your laugh has left the room,
though its memory remains
painted on the walls.
Tears come
for the future
that never got to be.
The air remembers
the breaths that were only ours,
in the space
we alone shared.
Even your flaws
grew dear to me.
I pray you find
the life you imagined.
In the halls of memory,
I still stand
before the portrait of you.
I hold the keys to my own life; I choose my own path, for it is not paved for me. I create, dream, and move
Within the ever-fleeting realities of life and the frailty of this existence, one measure is beyond comprehension. Love. A feeling that, when felt with the
The inner soul longs in silence for true connection. It fears to speak, lost in its own world of self-doubt as it clings to the
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