Phantom Limb Heart

A whisper starts, a doubt takes hold, Are feelings gone, a story told? Success and loss, a vibrant hue, Yet senses fade, what once felt true. The taste of joy, the sting of pain, Recalled like sun, or falling rain. But touch is lost, a phantom limb, Where feeling danced, now shadows dim. Not blankness born of empty days, But absence deep, in hollow ways. Joy, grief, and love, mere words they seem, A barren plain, a broken dream. The memory aches, a cruelest jest, Of colors seen, now put to test. A void expands, a chilling fear, The vibrant soul, no longer near. Yet hope remains, a fragile thread, To reignite, what lies as dead. Reflection's path, a winding way, To find the spark, that slipped away. A lonely fight, a hidden plea, How to explain, what others see? Empathy's ghost, a hollow sound, In silent depths, where truth is bound. A fleeting warmth, a sudden rage, A glimpse of life, upon the stage. Like desert rain, a moment brief, Then thirst returns, beyond belief. But whispers stay, a fragile sign, That brokenness, is not divine. No charted course, no guiding hand, Just memory's compass, in this land. Though limbo's fear, may ever loom, A single ember, breaks the gloom. A breath of hope, a whispered prayer, To fan the flames, and find what's there.