Ignorant By Default

Your Guitar Gently Weeps

You sang a song of sadness,

a song which shattered my soul

and scarred my heart.

Your voice filled with sorrow

had succumbed to your past,

a past where men had boldly entered

and swiftly exit.

Your sweet, soft whispers

kept me company

when nights became too long

and winters too cold.

I speak of distant memories

and yearn for a warm embrace,

for your ghost sleeps in my bed

and navigates the corridors within my head.

Your angelic voice,

now a screech,

travels through time

as your guitar gently weeps...