Quietly ... she wanders
down the hall to her empty bed.
Thankful for the solitude,
as she rests her weary head.
He didn't even notice,
that she hadn't talked today;
Perhaps it was imagined,
she had nothing much to say.
The silence now between them,
has become a kind of choice;
No longer does she even try
to let him hear her voice.
There is no hurt or anger,
for she no longer feels;
Existing in the shadows
unsure if she's still real.
With tears dried up inside her,
she no longer even weeps;
Her wounded spirits damage,
only felt now as she sleeps.
When dreams sneak up upon her
and beg for sweet release;
A temporary ointment
for a heart thats wounded deep.
At first she was a warrior,
fiercely fighting for her cause;
Then she became a martyr,
hurting deeply from her loss.
At last she sat in silence,
the weight of lonliness to bear;
It didn't seem to matter,
for now she no longer cares.
Within the hours of daylight,
as her body just a host;
For a spirit no longer living....
she exists as just a ghost.
