Grief came softly, then it stayed,
wearing all the light we made.
It took his voice and left behind
a hollow ache that answered mine.
The walls still hold familiar things,
the echo of our laughter clings.
Where is the girl who felt so free?
She is gone now. She is not me.
Where whispers of our dreams once soared,
now silence haunts what came before.
The sheets lie cold where he once lay.
I’d give the world for yesterday.
I know my anger is misplaced,
but still I move as if erased.
His laughter lingers, sharp and sweet,
a ghost I hear but cannot meet.
At times I feel him everywhere,
but loss still lingers in the air.
I ache to feel him on my skin,
to close the space love left within.
They tell me love still carries on.
That does not change that he is gone.
They say this pain will someday heal,
but I still hold on so you feel real.
wearing all the light we made.
It took his voice and left behind
a hollow ache that answered mine.
The walls still hold familiar things,
the echo of our laughter clings.
Where is the girl who felt so free?
She is gone now. She is not me.
Where whispers of our dreams once soared,
now silence haunts what came before.
The sheets lie cold where he once lay.
I’d give the world for yesterday.
I know my anger is misplaced,
but still I move as if erased.
His laughter lingers, sharp and sweet,
a ghost I hear but cannot meet.
At times I feel him everywhere,
but loss still lingers in the air.
I ache to feel him on my skin,
to close the space love left within.
They tell me love still carries on.
That does not change that he is gone.
They say this pain will someday heal,
but I still hold on so you feel real.
3/30/2026
The Words That Got to Me
I like your title. As a reader, it being the first word you see, it definitely makes you think what it is that lingers. And whilst the line about the kind of grief that doesn't ask permission is beautifully expressed, my feeling is that it sort of confuses when I read the first line because it seems to me like a softer, not a hard hitting grief I might have been expecting. I like how, in your poem, you mix in the physical memories, the things hanging on the wall, the sheets, with those more emotional memories to do with feelings. I like how you present it without division into verses and it has a great flow, one that would suit an open mic performance.