My words of love wither and die, in the stony basement of your cold, hard mind. Sent forth in earnest hopeful they fly, until they end crashing into walls strong and high. Too Late Surrounded by silence. My world has grown bleak. Pain fades to numbness.
Hope grows distant, and weak.
I still hear your footsteps, though softer today. My stairs need your climbing. Green chair misses your weight. If not smiling forlornly at my silly dreams. Serene and insightful, but feeling all things.