The Secret Room Where Our Love Still Breathes"

The Secret Room Where Our Love Still Breathes"

There’s a room they say doesn’t exist—
No window, no key, no name on the list.
But I’ve walked its floor with trembling feet,
Where shadows hum, and lost hearts meet.

It hides behind a mirror cracked,
In the house where time has never tracked.
The hallway moans with every gust,
And breathes of stories sealed in dust.

I found it first on autumn’s breath,
When leaves like love had danced to death.
A creaking door, a ghost of light—
Your perfume stirred the silent night.

The room was small, but wide with dreams,
A world within old broken beams.
There were notes we wrote on candle smoke,
And promises too soft to ever revoke.

A scarf you left hung on the chair,
Still whispered warmth into the air.
And on the wall, in faded ink,
Your poem sat on memory’s brink:

"If I’m not here, don’t think me gone,
This room remembers. Love lives on."

Each visit now, you’re almost near—
A laugh, a sigh, a breath I hear.
Your shadow flickers in the glass,
Like echoes from our moonlit past.

I sit beneath our phantom stars,
Where silence heals and opens scars.
And tell the air how life has been—
Since you walked out, and left me in.

I’ve brought new letters you’ll never read,
And flowers that wilt, yet never bleed.
I read aloud each trembling line,
And hope the dust will make them mine.

Sometimes I feel your fingers graze
My shoulder in a loving haze.
Sometimes the door swings half ajar,
As if you walked back from afar.

Yet when I turn, the room is bare,
Except the scent that clings to air.
And still, that scarf sways soft, alone,
As if it knows it’s not yet gone.

For here, this room defies the end—
Where past and present subtly blend.
Where love escaped time’s closing hand,
And built a world we still command.

So though you’ve vanished from my days,
This secret room still holds our ways.
It keeps our vows, our silent cries,
Our midnight talks, our long goodbyes.

And I will come, though seasons flee,
To where your love still waits for me.
In wood and wall and breath and beams—
Where we still dance inside our dreams.