Soft Refrain of Goodbye

The silence settled where your voice once lived.

It’s a quiet thing, a cold breath resting on my skin,

soft and steady, like the weight of a winter morning.

I call your name, but there’s nothing

no echo, no answer, just rooms holding their breath,

whispering memories I’m not ready to hear.

The laughter that filled this space

has slipped away, vanished with the light

that used to warm the corners of my world.

I reach for the past

fingers sifting through sand, grains slipping through cracks I can’t hold.

Your scent lingers in the sheets,

folded carefully like a secret.

A ghost warmth that time cannot touch,

that won’t let go. The chair you always chose

waits patiently, empty, still, as if you might return and sit again.

I find your smile in photographs,

frozen moments that smile back,

but they don’t tell the whole story.

A story I can’t rewrite,

a quiet unravelling, a love that softened and slipped away

slow, gentle, like a goodbye whispered in the dark.

The days move quietly without you,

wrapping my heart in a slow, cold embrace,

a winter that doesn’t end.

I wander through echoes, the spaces between us filled

with soft aching, with things I can’t replace or forget.

And still, in this silence,

there is something fragile, a space where hope lingers,

breathing softly beneath the weight of loss.

Your memory lives here, a tender flame flickering,

not bright, but steady enough

to keep me half alive.

The silence settled where your voice once lived.

I hold it close now,

learning how to live in the quiet,

beneath these endless, gentle skies.