Whispers in the dark

Time heals, they oft repeat to me,
believing that they speak the truth
but flames so bright can never fade:
instead, in shadow they're renewed.
With contemplation overlaid,
the ache of joyful memory

For, in the darkness, light must seem,
to burn with new intensity:
in silence, sounds before unheard,
are amplified beyond mere words:
and memories of love, in pain,
from recollection won't abstain

Yet reminiscence must evoke
nostalgia of times more enjoyed.
I still recall each phrase you spoke
and know your face's lines by heart,
but would you even know my voice
or hear these whispers in the dark?