…the things that no-one else can see

My home has become a haunted house
where my windows are always facing yesterday
and all the corridors are filled with shadows
that still quietly whisper your name
there are footsteps in the empty attic
just the restless bones of my memories
and the last remnants of our love
that once set fire to every corner of my soul
and filled my empty spaces with your light
and then you left me here to wander alone in the dark
the pain of broken promises, slowly unravelling me
the weight of the words we left unsaid
still lingering in the endless silence
and now your voice no longer whispers to me
and your gentle touch is just a memory
I find myself in the deep darkness of my loss
constantly staring at portraits of my regret
there are still flowers on the windowsills
that are somehow still blooming without the sun
and pale roses still growing in the ashes of us
their petals still holding the sweet scent of longing
their roots entwined with grief
and I water them with my midnight tears
the cruel familiarity of something
that suddenly awakens all my pain
I am haunted by the ordinary
the things that no-one else can see
the way the wind moves through the trees
the sudden fragrance of a summer flower
in the middle of the winter rains
these things that bring you back to me
I light a candle for our memories
and another for all our years together
then I watch their flames dancing
through the shimmering veil of my tears
©Ann Bagnall