The Voice I Still Hear in the Dark

I hear your voice when the night grows still,

a quiet echo threading through my chest,

and every memory bends to your will.

The past returns with a force I cannot kill,

soft shadows rising where hope once rest,

I hear your voice when the night grows still.

Your name drifts back like a gentle chill,

reminding me of the truth I never confessed,

and every memory bends to your will.

I try to outrun what I feel, yet still

your presence lingers in ways unexpressed,

I hear your voice when the night grows still.

The dark knows secrets I wish it would spill,

but longing keeps them carefully pressed,

and every memory bends to your will.

No matter the distance, the time, or my skill,

your echo comes back as an uninvited guest.

I hear your voice when the night grows still,

and every memory bends to your will.