Her shadow walks on
in these cold locked chambers
of the worn mansion in my heart.
I hear her steps
and the echo of her breath;
I smell her hair
and the trail of her essence…
But each door is locked
each hallway old and cracked
and every hint of her
leads me to another dead-end
capped with a tall mirror
that exposes these anguished eyes.
She was here once, I know
but all the laughter behind the doors
is a phantom
a party of ghosts
and ne’er again can I walk in
and enjoy the mirth.