Shallow breath and shaking hands,
Empty words form her story.
Youthful lust of time gone by,
Regrets what could have been.
The whispers of silver,
Covered by silk,
Envelops her aging mind.
Her ink is dry, no words to scribe.
‘If only’ she had changed her path,
A ghostly reminder of words unspoken.
A chance, a glint of stolen hope,
Her blind eyes left wide open.
It was not much, but all he had,
The love he offered to her.
The acceptance, all too late,
Her empty words, trailed through silence.
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