Echoes of Absence
The walls whisper your name
In the emptiness of this room
An echo that bounces
On the walls of my gloom
Gone are the days of laughter
Replaced by the heaviness of air
Each corner holds a memory
Of a love that used to care
The chairs, the bed, the photos
All props in a play now ended
The theater is empty, the curtains closed
Leaving me, a solo act, upended
I thought our love would fill this space
Into a home, a haven, a nest
But now it's just a hollow shell
Where echoes of you come to rest
How does one measure absence
When love leaves behind only lack
The emptiness is so tangible
Yet it's the substance that I lack
In this room, the silence shouts
About a love that’s now just an echo
A haunting, a wisp, a hollowness
In the empty theater of our love’s fiasco
Disassembled Dreams
Our love was a puzzle
Each piece meticulously fit
A picture we were building
In a box we could neatly sit
Today, the pieces scatter
Their edges rough, no longer align
The picture now is just a fantasy
A dream that’s no longer mine
I tried to force the pieces
To construct the image I knew
But the more I pushed and twisted
The more I lost my view
A puzzle missing pieces
Is a story never told
It's an image incomplete
And a dream put on hold
Here I sit, among the remnants
Of our unfinished tale
A puzzle that once promised
But ultimately turned frail
Disassembled dreams surround me
In jagged pieces on the floor
A fractured reality
That fits together no more
Vanishing Points
In the landscape of our love
You were the horizon I sought
The point where sky meets earth
The purpose to my every thought
But horizons are illusions
Never meant to be reached
Just like my dreams of us
And the lessons they have preached
You've faded into the distance
A vanishing point so far away
And I'm left in an open field
Wondering why you couldn't stay
Love's geometry deceived me
With lines that never end
But what good is infinity
When it’s a path you walk alone, my friend
Here I am, looking at an empty sky
Without a point to fix my eye
You've vanished, leaving emptiness
And questions of how and why
In this barren scenery
Your absence is the only point I see
The focal spot in my life’s frame
Where love's horizon used to be
Shadows of What Was
I walk through our old haunts
Where memories have turned to ghosts
Each place whispers a fragment
Of the love I miss the most
The café where we laughed
The park where we would kiss
Every location tainted now
By the presence of your miss
These spots have grown cold
Without the warmth of your embrace
They're just lifeless settings
Without you to fill the space
Even in a crowd, I feel alone
Wandering through shadows of the past
Each place holds a void
Where our love was meant to last
I used to find comfort here
In these corners of our city
But now they're just mausoleums
To a love that's lost its pity
As I walk through these hollowed grounds
I’m haunted by the shadows of what was
In a world that has moved on
While I'm stuck in a lingering pause
Unspoken Elegy
Words hang in the air
Unsaid, yet palpable
An elegy for love
Written in invisible syllables
We danced around the truth
A ballet of hesitation
Afraid of the final bow
That would end our love's narration
Each glance was a sentence
Each touch, a chapter closed
In the story of us
That will never be fully disclosed
Your absence speaks volumes
In the quiet of the room
A tale of love ended
A story sealed in doom
The ink dries on the pages
Of a book left incomplete
Our love, an unfinished manuscript
A tale bittersweet
The elegy remains unspoken
Yet resonates in every crease
In the silent folds of the heart
Where love has found its cease
A Collage of Empty Frames
We gathered photographs
Evidence of happiness, cataloged
Now the frames remain
But the pictures have been dislodged
Every smile a moment lost
Each frame a hollow square
On the wall, these empty shapes
Like an incomplete questionnaire
I stare at these outlines
Where our joy used to reside
Now each frame an absence
A chamber where emptiness can hide
The gaps between each frame
Used to symbolize possibility
Now they feel like chasms
Depicting love’s futility
I want to fill them again
With pictures of another life
But your absence still lingers
Like a dull, invisible knife
Each empty frame tells a story
A narrative of love that could have been
An exhibit of our end
In the museum of what’s no longer seen
The Anatomy of Absence
In the anatomy of this room
You are the missing organ
A vital piece that once breathed life
Now gone, the silence flagrant
The couch remains, the bed stays put
Lifeless, like a body missing its heart
Each one filled with a resounding absence
Echoing in each lonely part
I walk through the door
Expecting you in every corner
But each expectation meets
With the chilling air of a mourner
In the kitchen, where we used to dance
The tiles feel colder underfoot
Every appliance a mute witness
To a love that’s become moot
Even the ceiling, the silent observer
Seems to sag a little more
As if it too mourns your absence
A structure that’s lost its core
This home, this living anatomy
Aches for the piece that’s gone
In the anatomy of absence
I’m an organism, incomplete, drawn
Wilted Petals on a Forgotten Path
In the garden of our love
Each flower was planted with care
Petals of joy, roots of commitment
Seeds of dreams scattered in the air
But today, those paths are overgrown
The garden untended, the flowers astray
Wilted petals on forgotten trails
Mark love’s neglect and its slow decay
I wander through this wilderness
Remembering each planting choice
The roses of romance, the lilies of purity
Now voiceless in the absence of your voice
Even the weeds have a melancholic beauty
Growing rampant in the soil of despair
A testament to the carelessness
Of a gardener who’s no longer there
The fountain, once a lively centerpiece
Stands still, its water stale
Just like our love, it’s ceased to flow
A tale of passion that turned frail
In this unkempt garden
I find a metaphor for us
A love left unattended
In a world devoid of trust
Postcards from a Love Unknown
We sent each other postcards
From the destinations of our hearts
Each one a snapshot
Of love’s various arts
Now I collect these pieces of paper
Each one an island in a sea of ink
Geographies of emotions
That no longer link
I reread your words
Sent from places we’ll never visit again
Passages of a forgotten world
That now only bring pain
Each postcard another mile
In the distance that’s grown between
Mementos of a continent
That’s no longer serene
I think of sending a new postcard
From the locale of my current state
A barren landscape, a hollow void
A place found too late
These postcards are all that remain
Of a love that’s now unknown
Collectibles from a distant land
Where once affection had flown
Ghost Town of Emotion
Our love is a deserted place
A ghost town of emotion
Once thriving with life
Now devoid of all commotion
The saloon where laughter rang
Is silent, its doors creak
The laughter has died out
In a town that’s lost its mystique
I walk through empty streets
Where the wind whistles our song
Each note another remembrance
Of where our love went wrong
The general store of memories
Is boarded up and closed
What was once plentiful
Now in scarcity enclosed
I stand at the edge of this town
Looking at the road that leads away
A path to another life
Where love may still hold sway
For now, I’m the last resident
Of this desolate emotional state
A love once so populated
Now abandoned to its fate
Fading Vistas
Mountains in the distance,
so clear when love was new.
Now shrouded in fog,
like my understanding of you.
Walks along the beach,
your laughter mingled with the sea.
Those waves have receded,
along with the parts of you that understood me.
How did we get lost
in this labyrinth of emotion?
When did we stop being
each other's endless ocean?
Silence Speaks
Your side of the bed,
a cold expanse of emptiness.
Each hollow space
as loud as a confession.
Your voice,
an absent melody in the quiet morning air.
Our home,
a stage for the silence between us.
Do you remember
when our words flowed like a waterfall?
Now it’s the quiet
that says it all.
Erased
Our photo album, once a vibrant tapestry,
is now just a collection of what was.
Your image fades,
like those memories beneath the weight of reality.
Those places we visited,
each corner an altar to our joy,
are now shrines
to something long gone.
The poetry I wrote for you
feels like words from another life.
Once profound,
now just ink on a fading page.
Nightfall
The evening sky,
darkening with each moment,
reflects the waning hope
in my chest.
The stars, dimmed,
as if to mourn our end.
Your laughter,
a missing echo in the cool night air.
Time stretches on,
pulling us further apart.
The night deepens,
and so does the ache.
Hollow Echo
The living room echoes
with the sound of your absence.
Furniture, an audience
to our fading play.
Your clothes in the closet,
still hanging but slowly disappearing.
Each thread a reminder
of a love that’s slipping away.
Do you think of me
as you move through your day?
Or have I become
another hollow echo in your life?
Voids and Silences
In the apartment we once shared,
I navigate the emptiness.
Empty corners where your laughter resonated
now hold only the ghosts of yesterday’s echoes.
Coffee mugs sit dormant on the kitchen shelf,
each one a relic of morning rituals abandoned.
The kettle whistles, but the tone
lacks the counterpoint of your voice.
Your absence has transformed this sanctuary.
Chairs stand like stoic mourners
in a vigil for the happiness that once lived here.
The walls close in, more boundaries than protectors.
Windows show the passing world outside,
each face a blur except the one I yearn to see.
Is the world different or is it me?
Changed landscapes in the aftermath of us.
Day transitions to night, but the loneliness lingers.
Each dusk used to signal shared silence, a golden reprieve.
Now the setting sun just serves as a reminder,
casting long shadows where you used to stand.
In the empty bed where dreams were built,
pillows gather only the weight of regret.
The fabric stiffens, void of your touch,
and the quiet is overwhelming, love's cruel residue.
Unwritten Letters
I find a drawer filled with paper,
stationery bought to pen love letters
we never got around to writing.
Our intentions lost among life’s clutter.
I think of the words that could fill these pages,
each line a trace of what might have been.
Would ink and paper have made a difference?
Could words have bridged the widening divide?
The empty envelopes stare back,
sealed closures we never achieved.
No stamps, no addresses, no addressees,
like the unwritten future of a love interrupted.
I consider writing you a letter now,
summoning all the eloquence I can muster.
But what would I say? Where to start?
Is there a vocabulary for this particular ache?
In the end, the paper returns to the drawer,
the words unformed, the distance unbridged.
A drawer of unwritten letters, like us,
filled with good intentions that never took shape.
What does one do with a drawer full of might-have-beens?
With stationery meant for love letters that remain unwritten?
In the quiet that follows, a reluctant acceptance—
Some words are better left unsaid, some hurts too deep to write.
Broken Compass
Navigating the world without you
is a journey with a broken compass.
North is wherever you aren't,
each step a move away from our shared history.
Even in crowded places, I feel adrift.
Faces blend into an indistinguishable sea,
none of them yours,
none of them the face that was my North Star.
In my solitary wanderings,
I avoid the places we used to frequent.
Each landmark a painful reminder,
a memento of a love lost.
I keep moving, no destination in sight,
every mile a marker of the widening gulf between us.
But every road seems to lead back to you,
a cruel irony in this unending odyssey.
I look for distractions, temporary solaces,
seeking refuge in the ephemeral.
But at the end of the day,
the compass needle still quivers, unsure.
In the silent, dark moments,
I face the bitter truth—
I'm lost without you,
a wanderer with a broken compass in a world devoid of direction.
Seasons in Reverse
We met in spring when love blooms
and all things seemed possible.
Petals of promise, perfumed air,
the sweet nectar of the beginning.
Summer followed, days of warmth.
Skin against skin, sunsets lasting forever.
But even then, I felt a chill
as if autumn was lurking in the wings.
It came, as inevitable as nightfall,
leaves turning color, then turning away.
I watched our love change hue,
becoming something I no longer recognized.
Winter arrived, sooner than expected.
Cold winds, long nights, conversations freezing
before they could even begin.
You became a stranger in my arms.
Each season leaves a residue,
a marking upon the heart.
In the cruel cold, I wonder
if spring will ever come again.
For now, I exist in a perpetual winter,
in the relentless grip of a frost that won't thaw.
You were my seasons, my calendar,
and now time has lost all meaning.
Architecture of Loss
We were architects of dreams,
blueprints of a future only we could envision.
Each plan, each sketch, a monument
to a love that was supposed to withstand time.
The foundation was laid with care,
bricks of trust, mortar of mutual respect.
We marveled at what we were building,
unaware of the termites lurking within.
Cracks began to appear, small at first,
invisible to the naked eye, yet insistent.
We patched them over with temporary fixes,
false affirmations, rehearsed dialogues.
Then the walls came tumbling down,
not with a loud crash, but a slow, agonizing crumble.
In the rubble, among the debris,
I found remnants of our shared dreams.
I stand now in the ruins of what was us,
a lone figure in a devastated landscape.
It’s said that architecture is an act of optimism.
So what do we call these structures of despair?
In the architecture of loss,
I am the last remaining pillar.
A monument to a love that once was,
a relic in a museum of memories.
