In the quiet boudoir, shades of gray,
Lingers the memory of a love astray.
Silver, the girl, a vision so bright,
Her silhouette etched in the fading light.

Once we loved in whispers, soft and low,
In a dance of shadows, love’s tender flow.
Her back, a canvas of unspoken tales,
In that sacred space where love prevails.

Now, she’s gone, a whisper in the breeze,
Leaving behind echoes and heart’s unease.
The bed lies empty, a testament of sorrow,
Where once lay promise of every tomorrow.

Silver, my love, now just a dream,
In the silent boudoir, love’s lost theme.
A sketch in black and white, forever will stay,
A memory of love, that slipped away.

In each stroke, a story untold,
Of passion that burned, then turned cold.
Silver, my muse, in night’s embrace,
Now just a memory, time can’t erase.

So here I sit, in quiet despair,
Longing for the love that’s no longer there.
In the boudoir of dreams, where shadows play,
I remember Silver, who’s now far away.