Since You’ve Been Gone - 2

Since you’ve been gone,

the sky

has stopped singing.

Evenings fall

like broken stars clinging.

Each morning

trembles without you,

the sun

no longer breaks through.

The wind

has forgotten your name,

and rain

no longer feels the same.

Every drop

burns where you stood,

this monsoon

now scalds instead of soothes.

My pillow

holds what I cannot say,

your silence

stretches night into day.

Books remain closed—

each page a wound,

your fingerprints

in every room.

The mirror

won’t meet my gaze,

my face

a shadow in a haze.

I climb the roof

to follow your trace,

but even stars

deny me their grace.

I used to pray—

now I don't dare.

You’ve turned

into a lost prayer.

The streets

still whisper your feet,

but turn after turn

ends in defeat.

I speak

and your name betrays me,

I breathe

and your memory sways me.

You were

the first fire I knew,

the only truth

I ever grew.

Now love

feels like a lie to wear,

for no one else

can fill the air.

You were my season,

my song, my sigh,

and now,

you’re the ache I live by.