where did you go?

It resembles a frozen frame from an old film, where funeral flowers wilt faster than words of consolation. Questions hang in the air - where do those who leave behind only the echo of their footsteps and unspoken promises go? There is a draft in the heart, a desert in the soul, and everything spins in circles like a carousel that has long since made one feel sick. Here, memory crunches like cold stone underfoot, and love sounds only like a ghost that haunts one to the end.