Words Left in the Empty Room

The casket closed, a final breath,

quiet settled like thick dust.

I sat alone by cold coffee,

fingers tracing rings of rust.

A question caught beneath my tongue,

silent in the ticking air.

What needed saying never came,

left tangled in the empty chair.

The cup half-full, now cold and dark,

smudged fingerprints where hope once clung.

I hold the silence tightly still—

the words I missed, forever unsung.