In the silence of an abandoned chamber,
where shadows cling to the walls like whispers,
I wander through the remnants of what once was,
each step echoing the hollow sound of loss.
The air is heavy with the scent of forgotten memories,
a fading perfume that clings to the corners
of a heart now a mausoleum of grief.
Sorrow is the tax we pay on love,
a debt collected by unseen hands,
its price etched in the darkened veins of the soul.
Each tear is a coin, a currency of anguish
spent on the fleeting solace of affection.
Love, once a vibrant flame, now casts
only the cold light of a dying ember.
The landscape of my heart is a desolate expanse,
a wasteland where once-blooming dreams
lie withered under the weight of despair.
The echoes of laughter have dissolved
into the mournful cries of a requiem,
their melody now a dirge haunting
the emptiness left behind.
In this realm of shadows and decay,
I find myself adrift on a sea of sorrow,
its waves dark and relentless,
crashing against the fragile hull of my spirit.
Each moment without is a reminder
of the price of love,
a solemn tribute to what was lost
in the twilight of our shared existence.
About the Creator
Taylor Ward
From a small town, I find joy and grace in my trauma and difficulties. My life, shaped by loss and adversity, fuels my creativity. Each piece written over period in my life, one unlike the last. These words sometimes my only emotion.
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Comments (2)
Really now I know we pay tax on love. Liked it.
"The echoes of laughter have dissolved into the mournful cries of a requiem"...."a fading perfume that clings to the corners of a heart now a mausoleum of grief"......You paint a lovely picture though it be a sad one. Beautiful poem.