The Ghost of Daily Life
The winter chill has seized the empty room,
Where lingering scents of amber perfume bloom;
The clock stands still, a sentry of the past,
To watch the love that was not built to last.
Each common thing becomes a sharp rebuke,
The crystal glass, the pages of your book.
I trace your phantom in the dying fire,
The fading ghost of beauty and desire.
The silence tolls, a heavy, funeral bell,
Within this void where sorrow comes to dwell.
I hear the wind lamenting at the door,
Like lovers weeping for the days of yore.
Yet in this gloom, a beauty I conjure,
To see my world so haunted and obscure;
For grieving thus, in solemn, dark delight,
Preserves the spark of our eternal light.
This piece reflects upon the sacred nature of heartbreak, suggesting that the pain we feel is merely the final form of the love we bore. It explores how a home changes when it is stripped of its muse, leaving only the echo of what once was.
