What was (is no longer)

The night outside feels so loud in its silence,
I listen wearily, retracing old faces in my mind,
Ghosts of laughter echo through hollow corridors,
Their voices worn thin by the passage of time,
Each memory arrives like a hesitant visitor,
Knocking softly where sleep once stood guard,
And I sit beneath the weight of their shadows,
Counting the distance between what was and what remains.