Lyric

My palm meets the vacant side

Cool skin of a made-up night

The room keeps its careful shape

While loss sits heavy and still

A silent frame where warmth once slept

A folded ache beneath the ribs

No storm, no crash, just this

A hollow held in steady hands

Midnight leans on the wall

The clock turns its patient tooth

A pen lifts from the dark

And the silence starts to move

Blank page, carry the ache

Stitch the wound with a silver thread

Every note falls like rain

On the place where the voice once stayed

Blank page, carry the ache

Let the sorrow bend, not break

A heart can learn to stand

Even while it is turning pale

That familiar timbre lingers

Like smoke in an empty hall

A laugh once shaped the air

Now only outlines remain

My fingers do not shake

They cross the white like winter grass

Each line becomes a bridge

To the door that will not open

Midnight leans on the wall

The clock turns its patient tooth

A pen lifts from the dark

And the silence starts to move

If memory were a sea

Then sorrow would be its deep

Still, one small lantern tone

Can guide the chest through sleep

No remedy, no easy cure

Just the brave work of naming loss

And letting every scar

Become a quiet crown

Blank page, carry the ache

Stitch the wound with a silver thread

Every note falls like rain

On the place where the voice once stayed

Blank page, carry the ache

Let the sorrow bend, not break

A heart can learn to stand

Even while it is turning pale