Your voice echoes in the empty spots,
where my mind's eye held fragile memories
that shattered into labyrinths of mirrors
reflecting the darkness within us both.
I dreamt of endless fields of withered flowers
blooming in the aching numbness
of pollen fairies dancing with the wind,
ushering earthquakes into stillness.
And inside the eye of your mind
I learned to love the fading storms,
hungering for your lips to move
in the shape of arcane blessings.
We were never meant to be precious,
hollow inside as our chests became
empty orchestras that played
our heart in broken symphonies.
O how I ache as your voice echoes
inside the painful remembrance
of flowery deaths and a martyrdom
that beckoned to us the stillness.
You will never speak my name
under your breath again,
and your grave houses
both our souls,
together forever.
