He wasn’t here, just a shape in the frame, Flickering soft in a half-lit flame. A silent absence, a breath I missed, An absence sealed in a father’s twist. Empty chair, no words to find, Hope fell out and stayed behind. He faded out before the start, Left a room, but not a heart. Built with sand, built on dust, Held together by borrowed trust. Nothing spoken, nothing true, Just the ache of not being you. Quiet wounds, silent screams, Floating through forgotten dreams. No blood spilled, no scars to show, Only the cold I’ve come to know. I learned to talk in broken lines, Stitching hurt in borrowed rhymes. A love unsigned, a voice withdrawn, Grasping for what’s long since gone. Built on nothing, built with rust, Threads of silence stitched in trust. Nothing spoken, nothing true, Just the fault of not being you. Quiet wounds, silent screams, Floating through forgotten dreams. No blood spilled, no scars to show, Only the cold I’ve come to know. I laugh at silence like a joke, Words that sting but never spoke. Maybe someday I’ll rewrite The lines he left outside the light. Now that he's gone, the pain won’t fade, A wound that time can’t ever trade. Still I walk this path unknown, Hands are shaking, heart is stone. Now that he's gone, the silence stays, Filling up these hollow days. No fixing what was never whole, Still chasing ways to stitch my soul.
