The Echoes of Lost Love

In the quiet corners of my mind,
Where shadows linger, soft and kind,
Your voice, a whisper, faint yet clear,
An echo calls: You once were here.

The days we wove with golden thread,
Now frayed and torn, their colors bled.
Yet still, they shine in twilight’s haze,
A lantern lit in memory’s maze.

You were the sun on winter’s cheek,
A warmth I craved, a solace meek.
Now shadows stretch where light once fell,
A silent hymn, a mourning bell.

The sea once roared with vibrant tides,
But now it sighs where loss resides.
Each wave returns with fleeting grace,
Yet none can truly take your place.

The wind it carries your gentle scent,
Through empty halls where time is spent.
Its touch, a ghost, a fleeting kiss,
A cruel reminder of what I miss.

I see your face in mirrored streams,
In fleeting stars, in woven dreams.
The clouds conspire to sketch your form,
Then scatter swift, as if a storm.

Your laughter, once a melody,
Now lingers as a hushed decree.
It rings through chambers hollowed wide,
A haunting tune I cannot hide.

I write your name in winter’s frost,
Each letter a mark of what I lost.
The ice dissolves, the letters fade,
But not the wound your leaving made.

The streets we walked, now worn and grey,
Still hum with whispers of that day.
Your hand in mine, your voice, a song,
A rhythm gone, yet echoes long.

The café’s door swings open wide,
A stranger stands where you’d abide.
Yet in my mind, it’s you I see,
Time blurs the line of memory.

The river flows, relentless, slow,
Its depths conceal what I can’t show.
The way your smile once calmed the storm,
The way your arms made cold nights warm.

The moon becomes a watchful eye,
Its silver gaze lights up the sky.
It sees me call your name at night,
A whispered prayer, a flickering light.

Your letters, tied with fragile thread,
Are treasures now, though words have bled.
Each page a story, vivid, bright,
A time when love eclipsed the night.

The ink, it fades, but not the weight,
Of words once sealed with hands of fate.
“I love you still,” the echoes say,
Though time has swept the years away.

A willow weeps where we once met,
Its branches bow, as if regret.
Its roots, they reach where love took hold,
Its leaves, they shimmer, green and gold.

I sit beneath its solemn boughs,
My heart a canvas painted vows.
The bark, it bears our names entwined,
A bond eternal, undefined.

The seasons shift, the years parade,
Yet still your presence does not fade.
The snow may melt, the spring may bloom,
But always here, you fill the room.

A photograph, now blurred with age,
Still holds us locked within its page.
Your eyes, your smile, your tender gaze,
Still burn within these weary days.

The echoes speak in tones profound,
Their whispers soft, yet they resound.
They weave a web of loss and grace,
A haunting, bittersweet embrace.

The love we shared, though gone, remains,
A quiet fire that warms, then pains.
It wraps around my soul, my core,
A tide that pulls me to your shore.

I search for you in fleeting things—
The way the robin softly sings,
The scent of rain, the touch of air,
The dreams that fade but leave you there.

The stars, they guide my wandering heart,
Though we are worlds and miles apart.
I see you in their gentle light,
A love that spans eternal night.

Regret and joy, they intertwine,
A tangled thread, a thorned vine.
For love so pure, though torn in two,
Is still a gift, a timeless view.

I hold it close, this aching truth,
A relic bright of tender youth.
Though time may claim the fleeting years,
It cannot steal the love, nor tears.

In every tear, a story rests,
Of love once found, of love confessed.
Each drop a prism, breaking light,
Into the colors of that night.

The echoes fade, but not for long,
They linger soft, a distant song.
And in their tune, I find my way,
Through shadows cast by yesterday.

Perhaps in dreams, we’ll meet once more,
Beyond the waves, upon the shore.
Where time dissolves and hearts align,
And I am yours, and you are mine.

Until that day, I’ll hold the sound,
Of echoes in my heart unbound.
For though you’re gone, your love remains,
A balm for loss, a cure for pains.

And as the stars fall into place,
I’ll feel the warmth of your embrace.
Though love is lost, it still can be,
A beacon bright, a memory.

In every breath, in every sigh,
You are the wind, the sea, the sky.
The echoes call, forever near,
And whisper softly: You are here.

The years stretch wide, a barren plain,
Where love once flourished, now remains.
A field of echoes, soft and low,
Where seeds of memory still grow.

I wander paths we walked before,
The cobblestones, the shoreline's shore.
Each step a fragment, old yet bright,
Lit faintly by a fading light.

The seasons speak with solemn tone,
Their voices carved in wood and stone.
They call your name, a mournful song,
A hymn for love that didn’t belong.

The summer breeze recalls your laugh,
A fleeting sound, a fragile draft.
Its touch is warm, yet bittersweet,
Like fire's glow that can’t compete.
Autumn arrives with gold and red,
Its fallen leaves where dreams have bled.
The rustling whispers of the trees,
Are laden with your memories.
The winter brings a quiet peace,
A moment where the echoes cease.
Yet in its stillness, I still hear,
Your voice, your love, your presence near.
The spring revives what seemed to die,
Yet blossoms pale beneath the sky.
For every bloom, though bright and new,
Still pales beside the thought of you.
The moon, it shifts with patient grace,
Reflecting light on time’s worn face.
Its silver beams, they guide my sight,
To where you linger in the night.
In dreams, I see your form so clear,
Your laughter soft, your voice sincere.
But morning breaks, and you are gone,
A fleeting ghost of night’s last song.
I trace the stars with wistful eyes,
And wonder if in other skies,
You see them too, and feel the pull,
Of love unspoken, vast and full.
For though the echoes drift and wane,
Their constancy will still remain.
A love once lived, though now apart,
Still beats within this aching heart.