I wake with a quiet ache,
scrolling to our thread,
your name still there,
but silent.

Still, I send a message,
something small,
as if it might stir you
through the silence.

I picture your reply,
how you'd type and pause,
then send a heart,
or something silly,
just to make me smile.

Late nights were our ritual,
voice notes at 2 AM,
arguing over latest movies,
sharing dreams,
too fragile to say out loud,
except with each other.

The world spun with just us in it,
so selfish,
we never needed another.
We joked that anyone else
would steal our thunder,
dim the glow we found
in each other’s laughter

Days pass like drifting leaves.
I tell myself you're busy,
or resting,
or just forgot to reply.
And then,
the words I never wanted to hear,
you’re gone.

Gone,
while I was still waiting
for the next story,
the next laugh,
the next moment
with you.

Now our memories
live in unread messages,
and I’m still here,
talking to the past,
hoping it hears me.

Written by Micko.
All rights reserved.
30.April.2025.©️

Eyeliner of passion, fire for motivation,
I carve my name on the stone of salvation.
The gem in my ring gleams brighter than day—
A mirror of me, blazing my way.

The traitors cry as I rise, pulling knives from my back,
Let them yap—clearly, I’ve got what they lack.
I don’t care now—my silence is stitched
With the kind of success even their heirs can’t eclipse.

My niche on this earth was carved at birth,
A soul too sharp for this cowardly world.
Mother bore more than a child—she bore a flame,
And nature crowned her brave, giving my name.

Let the dogs bark; they won't cry when I'm gone.
I live for her—she’s the reason I’m strong.
Forget the world, their noise, their bother—
I fight for one: she’s the mother.

A pitch-black void—my current home.
Nerves tighten as I await the challenges ahead,
For the path I’ve chosen may lead to nothing,
A fruitless end, a whisper lost in time.

Yet, one thing remains unshaken—
The memories I’ve built,
And the ones still awaiting to be made.