I stand by the window halfopen it sways

I stand by the window, half-open, it sways,

a breeze tugs gently, pulling warmth from the air.

Yet it carries remnants of laughter and days,

a scent of cologne that lingers, unfair.

In his room, silence tumbles and sprawls,

every corner a ghost, each shadow a trace—

my heart aches for whispers that now barely call,

as absence wraps tight in this hollowed-out space.

Like smoke through my fingers, memories flee,

each breath pulls me back to those moments so bright,

yet here, it all vanishes—grief washes over me,

a hollow ache where his presence once ignited.