Your footsteps left behind only silence, and I learned to speak with walls that never answer.

Your laughter no longer fits in my nights, it slipped out through windows I never closed.

I want to lose myself in your eyes like in streets without a map, drink your laughter like the oldest wine.

I think of you in empty cafes and broken lights, in melodies no one understands but we do.

The wine cools on the table, no one toasts and no one sings, the empty chair remains, and an echo of your worn voice.