I only ever hear your voice in its warmest tones;
Whispering for the softest endings to come and punctuate my oldest home.
You said it's not about the end, its about how much we've grown.
I only ever hear your voice in whispers now,
softly lulling me to sleep just when the sun comes out.
You always said I should sleep more, but it's harder now.
I only hear your voice in its warmest tones, canvassing over all its reach; all washed out in softest glow.
Tried not to latch onto artifacts and keepsakes;
a hoodie here, the note on the mirror that posits our old futures as fate.
I only ever see your figure in silhouette; shapeless and cast in my room at each sunset.
It isn't like me to color all the past in warmer hues.
I only ever do it when I think of you.