Only those that came back to an empty house would understand the sound of silence left behind, or can smell the perfume of absence, or see the shadows after the light went away, or...

Absence covers the heart with sadness shroud,
you enter spaces full of emptiness that before
where full of noises and most delicate scents,
but that was earlier, now love is just a corpse.

Coming back from that nowhere and hearing,
the house’s heart are not beating and no blood
is pumping to make it alive, crack are showing
of despair, in the masonry covering the walls.

Sadness eyes aren’t looking, trembling hands
open one of those letters that are getting brown,
as cruel fingers made of the coldest ice will stab
with every letter forming a blade of every word.

Dreams of yesterday, emotions flying very high,
to where all was possible, tenderness and hope,
no wings were burned for flying so near the sun,
love make you an angel, and angels don’t fall.

Now, just an empty room full of empty space,
the witches of absence cackling, smiles no more,
as if awakening inside a demoniacal ice cathedral
where even flames of the burning fire are cold.

The only sound heard is when the broken echoes
of many promises of forever hit hard the floor
whit the finality of a end of a tunnel to nowhere,
you will feel no more alive, you will feel alone.