When The Storms Begin to Rise

When the feast ends, and laughter fades,
They slip away, swallowed by the darkened shades.
Familiar faces, now mere silhouettes,
Ghosts from the past, soaked in regrets.

Who were they, those hollow names?
Flickers of light, now swallowed by flames.
The voices once woven in the fabric of my days,
Now scatter like dust in the wind’s cruel maze.

The warmth of their touch, now cold and withdrawn,
Their presence a memory, fading at dawn.
What was once familiar is now a strange mask,
Worn by the past, too weary to ask.

Where are they now, those fleeting souls?
Lost to the void, where time takes its toll.
I walk in their footsteps, but they’re long gone,
Leaving only the silence, and the weight of the dawn.

The weight of their absence, a shadow that clings,
Tearing through the fabric of forgotten things.
I stand in the ruins of what once was bright,
Lost to the storm, where the day meets the night.