GUIDED BY ANGELS, LOVED BY A GHOST

He still waits for her to appear on his stories,

Hoping, just once, to feel her presence through the screen.

He still lingers, lost in the echoes of her pictures,

Tracing the contours of her face with his tired eyes,

Memorizing every detail, as if she might slip away again.

Still, he waits by the doorstep, his heart heavy with an unspoken promise.

A promise never fulfilled, a goodbye never whispered.

But she watches him from a universe far away,

A universe so close, yet unreachable.

A universe so deep, yet so brilliantly bright.

She walks beside him, unseen, through every step of his journey,

Her touch a whisper of wind, a fleeting warmth in the cold.

She lingers in his shadow, following him through empty streets,

Through silent rooms, through nights that stretch endlessly.

She exists between moments, in the space between his heartbeats,

In the hush of dawn, in the quiet hum of the night.

She loved roses, and he... he loved her.

Every Valentine’s, he fills her resting place with roses,

Their petals soft like the touch he aches to feel again.

A bouquet by her grave, alongside a bottle of wine.

The wine is sweet, yet the emptiness inside him is bitter,

A hollow ache that never truly fades.

He drinks, hoping the warmth will numb the void,

Hoping the wine might bring her back, just for a moment.

But she lingers only in memory, a ghost in his heart,

A love that refuses to die, even when she has.

She sends him angels to guide him through the dark,

Silent guardians who whisper in his dreams,

Who steady his steps when grief makes him falter.

They come in unexpected ways—

A stranger’s kind words, the laughter of a child,

The sudden melody of a song she once loved.

She is everywhere, yet nowhere,

A presence unseen, yet deeply felt.

She makes his life miserable,

Yet somehow, it’s filled with an unexplainable vitality.

A paradox—agony and solace entwined.

Like a bittersweet kind of joy—

A life too full of memories to ever forget,

Yet too painful to fully live.

She is both his torment and his peace,

His burden and his blessing.

Some nights, he dreams of her.

In those dreams, she is whole again,

Her laughter ringing like a melody he almost forgot.

She touches his face, her fingers feather-light,

And for a moment, the universe bends—

She is not gone, she is here, she is his.

But the dawn comes too soon,

Stealing her away with the first rays of sunlight.

She wipes his tears when he cries at her grave,

Her touch gentle, though he can never feel it.

Her voice an echo in the wind,

A whisper in a language only his heart can understand.

She lingers, not in body, but in love—

A love that exists beyond time, beyond life, beyond death.

And though she is gone, she will never truly leave.

She is the stars above him, the roses in his hands,

The ache in his chest, the warmth in his soul.

She is his forever,

Guided by angels, loved by a ghost.