A solitary poem of grief, memory, and enduring love.

In the quiet, dust-filled rooms of a house that holds more past than present, Sindy faces the perfect, heavy absence of her lost lover. This poem is a whisper caught between the ticks of a grandfather clock—a reflection on promises broken not by malice, but by time and fate.

Step into this Victorian Gothic world where a candle’s trembling flame is the only witness to a heart that refuses to forget.

LYRICS:

The house still breathes your name.
It sighs through the curtains,
tracing your memory along the dust and lace.
I light a candle, though the sun still lingers—
its flame trembles, as if it, too, remembers you.

You promised time would not unmake us,
yet here I stand,
a shadow stitched to a dress of black.
I feel you… just beyond the veil of sound,
in the hush between clock ticks,
in the echo between heartbeats.

Sometimes, I swear I hear your voice
in the low hum of the rain,
in the rustle of my own breath.
I whisper back, though I know—
you are not listening.
You are not here.

The mirror keeps your absence perfectly,
reflecting only what remains of me.
I touch the glass, and for a moment,
I almost feel warmth—
the ghost of your hand against mine.

But it fades,
like every vow ever spoken beneath mortal lips.
And still… I light another candle.
Still, I wait between the heartbeats,
for the sound of you returning—
though I know you never will.