Aching heart

In the quiet of night, a whisper lingers, an echo of laughter, now a ghost in the shadows. My heart, a fragile bird, flutters in the cage of memory, each beat a reminder of what was lost, what could never be. Time drips slowly, like rain on weary skin, and I gather the fragments, shards of love, sharp yet beautiful, weaving them into silence. Here I stand, an aching heart in an empty room, seeking solace in the spaces where you once danced, where light used to bloom....