THE LINGERING DARK

The shadows lengthen, years a creeping stain, where laughter echoed, now a hollow rain. Fallen leaves, like memories, twist and turn, a bitter harvest, lessons left to burn.

The air is thick with ghosts of whispered names, a chilling silence, fueling phantom flames. They walk beside me, though their forms are gone, their vacant eyes, reflecting the setting sun.

Each passing year, a blade that twists and bites, the phantom touch, in cold and endless nights. The world moves on, oblivious and blind, while fractured echoes linger in my mind.

No gentle solace, no sweet, soothing lie, just empty spaces where their spirits die. And in the darkness, where my soul is torn, I find their absence, freshly, every morn.