The paper—a colour-soaked canvas of time
Blue and gold—like stars in the night sky.
Black and white—like ashes after fire dies.
Long gone, no longer existing in the absolutes
Just faint brushstrokes and fading truths.
A bruised artistry lost in time.

Time turns everything into a watercolour painting.

Try to trace back the line,
But all you get is distorted red and lime—
A beautiful artistry, lost in time.

The sunlight lingers -
travelling miles just to greet me

The bitterness in my coffee -
a quiet reminder to break free

The cat curling up beside me-
a silent keeper of my peace

The hues on my frames-
unfolding secrets buried inside of me

The smell in old libraries-
dusty chapters of my memories

The fragmented thoughts of my spirit-
making me want to live


The gravity of mundane things -
whispering the quiet joys of simply being

When Kyo gives me tangerines,
He scratches, hits, and runs,
With paws of an evil soul,
That always meows but never purrs.

But when Kyo gives me tangerines,
His orange glow —a spark of sunshine in the dark.

At the end of the cold night,
He curls up so nice, a tiny warm bundle  to hold tight.
But oh, at the end of the night,
He’ll pounce and start a fight.

Missing two souls who made it whole

The only chaos I find myself longing for

The laughter, the late-night chatter,

Echoing softly in the corner of my world

The pictures on the walls whispering tales,

Every element echoing a loss too deep to name.

The nostalgia that comes with what once was

A scent that lingers,

The foundation of all I believe,

Etched in the walls

In a place we all call home.