667. I held your love as if it were my own,

SONNET 667
By JH Sayyar

I held your love as if it were my own,
A flame I thought would never lose its glow.
But now I walk this weary world alone,
Where once bloomed joy, now only sorrows grow.

Your voice, once music, haunts the hollow air,
A ghost that stirs with every whispered breeze.
Your touch is gone, and yet I feel it there—
A phantom warmth that never grants me peace.

The days move on, unkind and slow to heal,
Each one a weight that memory makes worse.
No time, no prayer, no song can make me feel
Less like a man beneath a fading curse.

 

Still I love you, though you've slipped away—
A shadow I do pursue, but cannot stay