I stood in the hallway,
the familiar scent of jasmine hanging heavy—
my mother’s perfume.

I called her name,
but it wasn’t the voice of my mother
that answered.

It was mine—
but younger.

I turned the corner,
and there she was—
sitting at the kitchen table,
but her eyes…
they weren’t hers anymore.

"I’ve waited for you,"
she whispered,
and the room went cold.

I reached for her,
but my fingers sank into her skin—
soft, pliable,
like wax—
too easy.

And I realized too late—
she wasn’t waiting for me.
She was pulling me in.

Then I felt it—
a slow, unbearable pressure in my chest.
I couldn’t breathe.

"You’ll never leave me again."

Glass-winged moths hover,
opal figs drip milky dusk,
stars hum, ripe with light.

With summer’s end, part of him died.
With what remains, he watches the fall.
As darkness and cold become the days -
He stays inside her for longer.
In the aftermath of warmth their passion creates.
The snow begins, falling silently, unlike rain.
The winter sky always claims the sun.
A heroic heart stops beating -
So ends a great adventure.
All but him will remember when he returns.

Our dreams, not all came true.
She holds my hand, to take me to the tower.
There she speaks a language of our own.
Seven lifetimes she’s been my wife -
Seven more anew.

Relations break up very silently
But give pains very loudly

I can hear the sounds
Not from my ears
Does heart has ears?
Which hears the sounds no one other can hear?
Some times people in my diary
Get alive and I see them
Moving working laughing talking
Looking to me
I cannot answer
Keep sitting and watching in statue mode