Ours was an unsung love song.

Traces of a restless banshee
tickle my ear
with a fugitive staccato,
as silence swells
to a deafening roar
studded with ghosts.

Our hushed verses
mourn
for its first gasp
of air.


Still,
your forlorn notes linger –
beyond pretensions,
irrevocably everything
yet nothing
to me.