The Graveyard of Forgotten Dreams

The Graveyard of Forgotten Dreams

Night drapes its cloak across my shoulders,

A fabric heavy with unseen sorrow,

It moves slow through the corridors of memory,

Each step echoing where laughter once stood.

The bed remembers every broken whisper,

The pillow worn with the shape of tears,

Sheets folded over nights of silent fear,

Blanket heavy with invisible weight.

The window cracks with the chill of ghosts,

Fingers tapping, scratching at glass,

I feel them pressing close,

Their breath a shiver across my spine.

I once held hands that never returned,

Voices that faded before morning,

Now I wander, following shadows,

Collecting fragments of what was lost.

Candles flicker, their flames bent in despair,

Ash drifts through the air like whispered prayers,

I sit among it all, counting empty stars,

Each one a promise that will never come.

The floor remembers every hurried escape,

Every step that led to nowhere,

The walls bend with stories unspoken,

Their paint peeling like forgotten skin.

I speak to the silence, it speaks back,

Words forming shapes too cruel to name,

The night is alive, it holds me tight,

A cradle for the weary heart.

And when the first light leaks through the cracks,

I am still, yet moved,

Carried by the weight of dreams dissolved,

Through a graveyard where nothing rests.