The deafening sound
Of silence
Vibrates about
The room
The memories hang
Like picture frames
Through curtain
Creeping moon.
Past voices echo
In patterned thought
Like layered paper
Words Ive bought
Upon a bookshelf
Webbed and dust
Love and hate
Now to thrust.
Time it seems
Second hand
Reused in passion
Without glory stands
Footsteps taken
Back and forth
Upon each board
Within each thought.
The hourglass
With eyes to taunt
Each grain to fall
Each moment haunt
With memories
Some deep regrets
In silence
Secrets kept.