In life’s grand ballet, amidst a crowd’s embrace,
Your silence leaves an echoing, hollow space.
Once, loneliness was but a foreign tune,
Now, it hums loudly, every afternoon.
Each sunrise, my gaze turns to the silent phone,
Hoping for a text, a call, a sign you’ve not flown.
Yet as sunsets paint stories of another day gone,
I wonder if I’m becoming a solitary pawn.
Perhaps with time, I’ll grow accustomed to this void,
And memories of our talks will be subtly destroyed.
I grasp, I understand, healing’s delicate grace,
Yet I fear the chasm widening, at this very pace.
For what if, in time’s relentless stride,
Life without your voice becomes the tide?
Will our shared laughter, our tales, our spree,
Simply fade, becoming history’s distant tree?
Yet, deep within, a hope persists and thrives,
That our bond will survive life’s turbulent dives.
But if not, if silence is our destined end,
I’ll cherish our memories, my absent friend.
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