At the edge of night I sit and wait,
like a shadow that forgot its place.
The hours fall slowly, heavy,
like dead leaves no one gathers.
Silence tells me of everything missing,
of voices that never return,
of hands that once were home
and now are only a cold memory.
I walk through gray days
where the sun seems tired of rising,
and every dawn feels
like repeating a farewell.
There is an invisible weight in my chest,
a rain that never ends,
an echo repeating your name
in empty rooms.
And though the world keeps turning
with its distant noise of laughter,
I remain here,
sitting with my sadness,
watching how time
slowly learns to forget me.