In the dead of night, beneath a moon's pale glow

I dig with trembling hands where memories grow.

The soil is cold, the air thick with despair,Whispers of the past linger everywhere. I call your name into the silent dark,Hoping for a spark, a ghostly remark.My heart beats wild, a rhythm of regret,Each pulse a reminder of what I can't forget. Your laughter echoes through the midnight air,A haunting melody I can't repair.With every shovel's heave, I unearth the past,Trying to reclaim a love that didn't last. Eyes closed, I see you as you were before,A specter of dreams, a shadow at my door.I breathe life into the dust, tears in my plea,Resurrecting moments only I can see. But the grave is silent, your form doesn't rise,No warmth returns, no love in your eyes.For though I conjure you from the depths of my mind,Reality is cruel, the truth unkind. The resurrection fails, and I fall to my knees,Grieving for the ghost that no one else sees.In this garden of sorrow, I must let you go,Release the love lost, allow the wound to close. Yet in the hollow of night, I'll always seek,A flicker of you, a kiss on my cheek.For love buried deep can never truly die,It lingers on whispers, a perpetual sigh