A sonnet I wrote last week

When a heart breaks inside an empty room
with none to hear it, does it make a sound?
The remnants flutter, silent, to the ground.
Where once the heart was there is now a tomb -
Within this sepulcher carved from cold stone
Ghosts of these three - faith, hope, and love remain.
Their bitter tears fall in a gentle rain.
All hope is lost, faith gone, and love is done
Time does not heal their wounds nor ease their pain
Shared misery no consolation brings -
Like the caged bird who sadly, sweetly sings,
Their fervent pleas for solace are in vain.
There is no balm in Gilead, and thus
Ashes return to ashes, dust to dust.