I see echoes of you,
in the way
the wind blows
through net curtains.
A feint vision or trace,
a memory of a face.
A memory of you,
stood in place, watching over the sea
as the wild galloping storms called.
Looking out to where our hearts
made love upon that
windswept shore.
Overhead the lone gull swooped,
disinterested in our passionate
nighttime pursuit.
I see echoes of you
as I walk slowly through
cobwebbed dusty rooms.
This place used to be vibrant,
but time has left it still and eerily silent.
The only sound,
a squark outside
as a gull dives for food
in the ink dark waters
that hide our memories inside.
A sharpened knife
cutting through the acrid gloom
of nighttime air. I swear I hear it scream,
or is that me dying internally.
I see echoes
in the bathroom light.
Echoes in the mirror,
as I glance aside.
I see echoes in the
corners of my eyes.
Eyes that have wept
a vast ocean of life.
I still see those ghostly apparitions,
vaporous memories, faded visions.
Dreams echoing almost soundlessly,
but I feel their piercing screams
deep within the aching well of my being.
Dreams left playing over and over on repeat.
Dreams we never got a chance to achieve.
Even now, though this bed hasn't been laid in
since time was a glint in the heavens eyes,
I still see those echoes.
Your breath clashing
with the frigid night,
before flowing away
to a distant atmosphere.
I still see those memories
flittering through every room
like dust motes
clinging tightly to the memorialised
shape of you.
I've been seeing these echoes
ever since that long gone day.
A day in spring, when hope walked away.
Thanks for reading
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continue to do this.
Peace, Love & Poetry
Kyle
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