An Elegy

When the tears of passion become lonely,
Then the intangible wounds look saintly;
When the affectionate glances hide in the dark,
Then the recent confusion leaves a strong mark.

My silent, dark house now hunts me with a knife,
To eat the flesh of my rotten life;
The room that witnessed our passionate wars,
Hides behind the curtains to veil the scars.

I wear your shirt to befriend your smell,
For you have left me alone in this earthly hell;
My bruised heart is sleeping at last,
To bury the myriad memories of the past.