They do not come with a loud noise

Nor with dancing shadows across the wall

They simply wait for the quiet of night

The most silent time of all

A soft scent of flowers, a passing thought

A bedroom door left ajar

The ghosts of our past return

Back from the dead not far

With me they sit in the weight of darkness

We breathe in the very same air

Like a broken record they replay the words I lost

Even the moments I am unable to share

I have tried so hard to lock those doors

To leave those memories in the past

But they have become like stubborn ghosts

They always seem to last