To the One Who Left Without Goodbye

I still keep your voice

in the quiet corners of morning,

like dust that never quite settles

on the shelves we built together.

You vanished

not with thunder or warning,

but with the soft cruelty

of silence closing a door.

No note. No explanation.

Just absence,

threaded into everything.

I replay the last moment

a glance, a half-laugh,

something unsaid

suspended in the space between

what we were

and what we never finished being.

Did you know

how many words I swallowed after?

How many nights I argued with shadows

who bore your outline?

I don’t need answers anymore

only to tell you

that even unfinished songs

still echo.

If you ever think of me,

I hope it’s on a gentle day.

Until then,

I keep writing you

in poems

you’ll never read.

Rakshana CD