In the silence of night

wounds of the heart scream.

Being alive is
making me
nauseous

Listen up,
You’ve been dancing in circles,
thinking you can outrun your own shadow.
But the sun always moves.
And shadows?
They follow.

You patch the cracks,
stack lies on lies like brittle bones,
but every cover you throw
just sinks you deeper.

You wear your little masks,
build fake versions of yourself,
hoping if you play enough parts,
nobody’ll see what’s rotting underneath.
But we see.
Everyone sees.
That theater doesn't scare anyone,
and it sure as hell doesn't scare justice.
Truth won't lose patience.
It doesn't blink.
It waits.

You write your pretty verses,
spit out poems like they’re some kind of shield,
like art can outrun consequence.
Your words are feathers in a hurricane.
They won’t cover the hurt,
They won’t erase the stain.

And don’t forget —
it’s never the sin that buries a man.
It’s the weight of hiding it.

Your first taste
made the aftertaste
bittersweet.
On your hands,
the gleam of a silver tray.
On your lips,
red thread,
tied to my lips.
Promises exchanged in dark corners,
your shadow consoling mine.
Grey fields bloomed in colors bold.
In time, the thread grew taut,
cut by the blade in your hand.
A love once cherished,
now perished in fading colors.
Only a lingering taste remains.
Bittersweet.

When your voice
Escaped the clutches of the night
I held on tight
In vain

Your eyes that hid under the curls
They've become traces of you

To a girl I once knew
You're only a memory away

The harder it becomes to let go
Shake and shiver
Every time you think of her
It is a cure

You know she's carved a part of you
In her heart too
But she'll kiss it away
On a lonesome rainy dawn