Since You’ve Been Gone - A breath of love that never returned

Since you’ve been gone,

everything has stilled.

Even time

seems to have knelt at your feet and chilled.

The sky

no longer wears its blue,

and the moon

glows dim, remembering you.

The sunlight

no longer reaches me,

and the wind

longs for your touch endlessly.

The rain

once held peace in its fall,

now each drop

is your absence, bitter and small.

The mornings

lean through windows without light,

every beam

awakens a different night.

My pillow

soaks in my silent cries,

and tears now fall

only when your name sighs.

The mirror

no longer reflects a face—

only the ache

that time cannot erase.

Without your touch,

this body forgets its grace,

each breath

feels like a sin in your empty place.

Books

have forgotten to speak aloud,

their pages

shiver, whispering you beneath the cloud.

I climb the roof

to find your trace,

but the sky

no longer answers my gaze.

You no longer

arrive in my prayer,

you’ve become

a wish—half-lost in the air.

Since you left,

love has turned to wound,

and every memory

scratches deeper into the wound.

You were—

my soul’s first soft sound,

and now—

you echo in all that surrounds.

Now no one

can read the script of my soul,

you were the word

that gave my silence its whole.

This is not just a poem—

these are the breaths left unfinished

since you left.