A Cadence Of Sorts

Carved gently in these vacant halls,
initials of our fate.
Like the words you said to me,
if not for closure's sake.
So silence quenched in black and white is all that's left
to trace. The dim lit light is a quiet drive,
attached with daybreak's grace.
It's in the way you smile at me.
The softness of your hair. Maybe when you laugh outloud.
The brilliance of your stare.