I hear her voice in my head at night
Just before sleep grips me,
Not a call in the dark,
A remembrance of
Something I can no longer
Hear for real,
Wishing I could,
The voice of someone
Who has changed
From someone I knew
When, long after
The fair days turned sour
I hear it all,
Good and bad,
The reverberation of it
Blasting through time,
The last voice
I lase heard
Saying how she only
Hated some men,
When after that,
Silence,
Leaving me to
Whistle passed
The graveyard
Of what used to be
Filling my head with
What I thought
Should have been
But never was
And never will b e,
Staggering through
A landscape
Littered with fallen leave
And naked branches
Fall into winter
Without hope
Of spring,
My footsteps
crunching leaves,
the only real sound
I hear
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