I walk through empty rooms,
The air heavy with memories I cannot touch.
Shadow clings to the corners,
And silence presses against my chest.
I reach for warmth, but find only cold.
The walls remember what I cannot.
Nights stretch long, and sleep refuses me.
I carry your absence in every step and breath.
Some pain cannot be spoken.
It remains quietly, a companion I cannot leave.
Every door is closed, every window dark.
And yet, in this stillness,
I walk on,
Haunted but moving,
Alone.

About the Creator
Emily
Poem lover, word collector, and believer in the quiet magic of language. I write to remember, to heal, and to find beauty in the spaces between silence and sound. Every poem is a heartbeat — a small proof that feelings can become art.
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