Cracking of the twigs echo in the silence, walking the path we once knew so well.
I still hear the creak of the old wooden screen door, your perfume living in the air I smell.
In a yellow sundress, a cool breeze laying your hair upon your lips.
The depth of your eyes I lost myself in, only a small piece of things that I miss.
Wild birds flying amidst the windows you once sung lullabies through at the moon.
Pieces of the past decaying, with only the pain left reminding me what’s true.
I scribed your image permanently with the tips of my hands, the foundation of this memory alone is what stands.
The color drained from my soul when you were taken from me, I walk alone in this overgrown hell you now see.
Image credit @aliveinsideink