She was starlight—
No… maybe brighter.
She sleeps in glass and breathes in flowers,
Moves like the soil was born just to hold her.

She smiled like the sunbeams needed her wrinkles,
Glanced like the wind borrowed her blinks.
I never heard her voice—
My only privilege
Was to gaze upon her frame.

But if I ever heard her speak,
I believe it would be
Sweeter than sweetness itself.

She wasn’t just ethereal—
She made me question
If she ever belonged to this planet at all.

I saw her once.
And I knew—
Hers was a beauty
That beauty itself would bow to.

She wasn’t made of moonlight,
Nor crafted by heavens,
She wasn’t an angel.

She was something beyond all of that—
Something even language could never contain.
No tongue could trace her form,
No name could describe her light.

Until I found myself asking the universe:
Was she really meant for Earth?

You walked in silence,
Leaving no trace behind.
I searched the floor for proof you were here—
A whisper left on the tiles,
A faint mark from your final step.

If you ever left with purpose,
Your footsteps hid it well.
I couldn’t tell if I was meant
To unravel this silent knot alone.
But even so,
On nights I had no one to turn to,
I still heard you call my name.

Your laughter—
A melody my ears still seek.
Your warmth—
A ghost against my skin.
My heart still races
At the thought of how
You used to look at me—
It draws a smile,
Uninvited, yet soft.

But now…
Someone else will claim
The gaze that once was mine.
And I’ll never know
What test we failed,
What moment cracked the thread of fate
That brought me here—
To witness this cruel sight.

A perfect time
To let my eyes blur with ache.
Because it's not me
Standing by your side,
As silver finds its place
On your delicate finger.

I don't wish to catch your bouquet,
So I let the moment pass me by.
My heartbeat's steps begin to sway,
Yet still, I whisper with a sigh—
You looked so beautiful in that white dress.

I don’t hold hints from the future—
No sign if you’ll ever cross paths with me.
But something behind these beating doors
Keeps whispering softly
Of things not even on their way.

I imagine the way you’d smile at me,
Your eyes sparkling
As light slips in discreetly—
Two ethereal pearls,
Crafted by sky and heaven.

Your soft hair dancing as the wind speaks,
My fingers threading through your scalp
As your eyes begin to close.
The voice that replaces the cassettes I play
When my world turns grey.

Verses form quietly in my soul,
Lines I can’t command or control.
They stumble, don’t rhyme, yet come to be—
Each time your gaze rests on me.

I feel like you’re out there—
Somewhere.
Just not now.
Not yet.

Until then,
I’ll wait to keep you safe in my arms.
And when that day finally comes…
It won’t be those eight letters I whisper.
Just endless warmth,
In silence—
So you’ll know
Exactly where to turn.

She walked with her head held low,
Her gaze drifting softly to the floor.
And in that fleeting glimpse—
She caught my eye,
Her purple dress swaying like coral reefs aglow,
As if leaving clues
With every quiet step she took.

It wasn’t flashy,
Just a silent wish to be seen
In this lost rollercoaster of a world.

In her delicate steps, she came close.
My heart stirred—
And the words escaped before my mind could catch them:
“You’re beautiful,” I said.

She remained adrift,
Her wrinkles paused like a still tide—
Holding moments I’d never know.
Her eyes stayed far away,
As if the past hadn’t let go.
“You’re beautiful,” I repeated.

She heard me this time.
But the air… it changed.
Her gaze returned to the floor.
“No, I’m old,” she whispered.

Silence lingered as she turned to go.
It stung—
But I couldn't let the moment flow,
Like a closed door I wasn't meant to know.

“You’re really beautiful,” I said, one more time.

A small smile played on her lips,
One she tried to tuck away.

I watched her disappear
In a red car
That carried stories I’d never know.

But even in her melancholic grey,
She chose to show up today.

Why do old souls believes
Their beauty vanishes with age?
Why hide away when they're called
With kindness, like today

A banyan only grows more alive
As it stretches through the years.
Its beauty deepens—
Even if it forgets.

And what made it beautiful?
Not ornaments or rouge,
Not even flowers.
But years—layered in silence,
Winds endured and roots held firm.
A beauty not painted,
But carved by time and trials.
Is it a curse? Or a gift we misname?
Either way,
It’s still beautiful—
Like nature,
That made you breathe first.

It wouldn’t be this silent
If the wind chimes Mother hung still sang from the ceiling.
It wouldn’t be this dark
If the warm lights still clung to the corners of the wall.
It wouldn’t be so pale
If the colors weren’t buried beneath lifeless paint.

There are things I never got to see clearly—
Like how those canvas paintings fell,
Even when the nail never moved.

I wish I’d been given a pass to the answers—
What exactly sleeps beneath these blurry lies?

But my train kept skipping the stations
I was meant to discover.
Now I’m stuck
In this trigonometric aisle—
Too angled to rest, too sharp to escape.

Sometimes, I don’t know how to feel,
But there’s one thing I know is real:
I still have to stay on this ride,
Even if it strips me down.

I’m not whole, and I’m not made of steel—
Because beneath all this armor,
I still crave love.

I’ve longed for warmth,
But never knew where to find it.
I used to fear the dark,
Until my only empire became
A blanket—
Because it did what my father never did.

I tried to return home… to Mother,
But she shut the door
Before I could even lift my foot to the step.

Everything was cracked—
Every side of me.
Taped together with fragile seams,
Pretending to be fine.

But I know I’m not alone.
And I don’t mourn—
Because I was told to grow.

As if I’m the only one with a heart
In a world of trillions?
Surely others have seen worse.
But I wouldn’t know.

So I’ll save my tears for now,
Pick up my mirror,
And walk—
Toward the next terror.

Don’t ever say that to me…
It’s already burning in my skin.
It kills me slowly, in silent series.
A part of me—I stopped collecting.

I thought I’d be her only adventure.
I thought I was her first flower to bloom—
Blooming without needing her to pour the water.

Not once did I think
It would be you she’d run to.

Just once…
I loved her.
I really loved her.

I loved her like shade under the sun,
Like daylight after darkness,
Like the last breath before sinking underwater.

I loved her
In ways I didn’t know I could.
I gathered the stars for her,
Even when they bruised my hands—
But I never stopped,
Because I wanted her to see
That the light still exists
Even when it’s not in the sky.

But it seems…
She liked the moonlight better.

Never the stars.

And I…
I can’t give her the moon.
Which means
I can’t love her better.

Maybe he gave her the moon.
That’s why these stars didn’t matter.
I know the moon is greater than the stars—
But don’t stars shine too?

Why did she choose the moon?
Is it because every star glows differently?

...Well—
Fine.
The moon lights up the sky.
Not the stars.

A silent day paired with mean weather—
The sun gave no warning before it showed up.
My skin grew tanner by the second,
But it didn’t matter—
My mind was piled up,
Wandering into another realm,
As the noise outside faded like sounds underwater.

Warm wind swept through my bangs,
Tickling my brows.
My palm cupped my jaw,
As I tilted toward the door,
Sitting still—
Like an abandoned statue on the floor.

And then I met his gaze.
It didn’t search for answers,
But somehow—it shouted my name.
It was louder than his charm,
Almost ethereal—
Like kaleidoscope art:
A beauty no being could ever describe.

Just a fleeting scene.
But in my home,
He took a permanent seat.

In a world of popstars and flashing idols,
I was drawn to a quiet soul—
Wiping his sweat,
As he washed strangers’ bowls