Still.

The past still exists for me, the ghost in your clothes a regular visitor at night.
The soft lines of your face, traced by my eyes as the chimes in your voice sound.
It is not that I come here to dwell forever, only that I am given coarse to you.
What remains is beyond the reach of words, my heart burning in these desolate, long abandoned places.

I long to go back, walk through our many doors, find you as you were, we as we were.
If only to hold you, let the words fall from my lips one last time.
These places are empty now, I have walked the halls.....listening.
Cold and left behind, they wait for me on nights like these.

I am only allowed this vacant shell, withdrawn from the light.
Subtle tethers tug, bring me back here where I need not go.



Still.