Silhouettes in puddles—
once reflections in clear water,
water that knew how to cleanse.
All I see now is blur.
Rain, once clear and cleansing,
defiled—thick with the mud of regret.
And I watch, knowing
I stirred the ground myself.
Nothing pure remains;
the puddle thins,
and lifts
into vapour.
Jan 28
Jan 28, 2026 at 4:29 AM UTC
No observation—
only words that drown out action.
Their echo is enough
to shatter pride and ego.
My own words return,
and silence follows—
leaving me lurking,
with careful steps and quiet instinct,
tracking something unknown, yet familiar.
Dec 22, 2025
Dec 22, 2025 at 8:48 PM UTC
No more observing—yet I can’t pull myself to walk.
I try to speak,
but stop at the thought of my own painful words.
The weight grows heavier;
silence overcomes anxiety.
A scent I once drew in fades,
like the sun in the west.
Remaining Light, swallowed.
I remain unmoved—
same place, same breath,
till the scent won’t reach me no more.
Dec 22, 2025
Dec 22, 2025 at 6:56 AM UTC
Tangled behind bars,
with dry skin, dry mouth, dry tears.
Like a river, the red cells are forced to flow.
Days gone — with soreness and loss.
Nowhere to go, an empty mind,
yet so full of worries — of blood and flesh.
Not his own flesh, but others’,
combined with what’s left of self.
A marionette of pain,
pulled by unseen hands.
He wished to fade,
but her open hand held him —
though her heart
had long shut its door.
Dec 20, 2025
Dec 20, 2025 at 5:46 AM UTC
Silent observation — careful steps.
No words, no sound escaping.
Only the weight of worry and lingering anxiety,
drawn to a broken scent — beautiful, yet painfully so.
A scent that forges a man stronger, braver,
yet foolish all the same.
And in silence, I breathe it in —
the scent of my own undoing.
Dec 16, 2025
Dec 16, 2025 at 8:28 PM UTC
In ten of the raindrops,
Some weren’t even rain at all.
The storm falls loud and heavy,
Yet something quieter feels heavier still.
Everything faces backwards,
And without a doubt, they walk away —
Leaving nothing behind
But a mark that will never fade.
So little, yet already lost,
With no figure to show the wrong or the right.
Cold and lonely — carved into my bones.
Then came a warm breeze,
A whisper guiding me
To the sanctuary where I belong.
The warm breeze calls to me again.
The only difference this time — I don’t follow.
Not because I can’t,
But because I won’t.
I know I’ll be stagnant if I do.
Yet I’ve found a scent —
So beautiful,
So broken.
I followed the scent,
And I found a creature —
So pretty,
Yet so… pity.
The creature reminds me of my old self —
Helpless,
Lost,
Until I found a breeze —
A warm breeze that guided me.
Maybe it’s time
I become
The warm breeze
Myself.
Nov 12, 2025
Nov 12, 2025 at 12:19 AM UTC