HORROR Poem: Whispering Air, by Kshan S

The house hums low with voices gone,
Shadows stretch where light once shone.
A chair still rocks, though none are near,
And yet—I hear her, soft and clear.
Her scent still lingers in the sheets,
Lavender, dust, and something sweet.
But when I reach—just empty air,
Cold and hollow, no warmth there.
They took her wrapped in plastic white,
A breathless ghost in morning light.
No touch, no kiss, no last goodbye,
Just sirens fading into sky.
She coughs in echoes down the hall,
Fingernails scratch along the wall.
I call for her, but hear instead,
A whisper creeping from the dead.
“Don’t wait for me,” the silence weeps,
“But keep my name where memory sleeps.”
Yet every night I leave the door,
A little wider than before.
For in the dark, I know she stays,
Between the walls, beneath the haze.
A voice, a touch, a fleeting sigh—
A mother’s ghost who won’t say why.

Author: poetryfest

Submit your Poetry to the Festival. Three Options: 1) To post. 2) To have performed by an actor 3) To be made into a film. View all posts by poetryfest