Beneath my smile, things decay,
soft rot dressed in polite silence.
Hope is a maggot, writhing—
feeding on what’s left untouched,
too small to ****,
too stubborn to die.

The waves hit harder,
the closer you get—
I learned the sea doesn’t care about your longing;
it will take without warning,
pulling you under,
because you thought you could stay dry
and you may drown,
or you may rise,
but either way,
you’ll never return the same.

I thought I could outrun the weight,
but the burden was never mine—
like a passenger begging for control,
but only the crash was waiting,
and I didn't even scream.

I always knew this was coming,
but still, I fought it—
like a moth drawn to the flame,
not out of choice,
but because I was made to burn.

The flame flickered, promising a release
I couldn’t name,
and I chased it, desperate in my hunger,
pretending I had a chance,
knowing deep down it was never a choice—
only the inevitable path to surrender.

She was a girl with oceans inside her,
waves made of dreams too fragile to hold.
But the world is indifferent —
it pulls, it drowns, it takes,
leaving salt in the wounds it never cared to see.
Her tides fought back, rising, crashing, begging to be enough,
until exhaustion felt like peace.
Now she floats—not sinking, not swimming—just there.

The cup of tea
sat cold on the table,
I waited for her,
but the chair remained empty.

He smiled like it was the last time,
And I knew it, though I didn’t ask why—
The air between us shifted,
Unspoken, like a secret the sky keeps,
Just for a moment, before it fades into silence.

His words lingered like a whisper caught in the wind,
Unspoken yet understood.
We were two fragments of something infinite,
Touching only briefly before slipping through the cracks of what could have been,
But in that brief pause, everything felt complete.

We were almost something—
almost a story,
almost a memory,
almost a beginning that never began.

It’s funny how “almost”
can hurt more than “never,”
because at least “never”
doesn’t pretend it had a chance.

But we—
we were a heartbeat away
from being real,
and sometimes,
that’s the loudest echo of all.

The storm and the calm
In the depths of your mind, emotions collide,
A sea of thoughts, nowhere to hide.
You feel with a fire, burning so bright,
A heart full of dreams that take flight at night.

You walk through the world like a poem in the rain,
With a soul that’s both gentle and full of pain.
Lost in the moments that only you see,
A dreamer, a thinker, a heart full of plea.

You stare at the stars with questions untold,
Hoping one day, your story unfolds.
A smile hides the storm you can't control,
But still, you move forward, heart and soul.

You hold on to hope, though it feels like a chase,
In a world that moves fast, you set your own pace.
With every glance, with every thought,
You write a new chapter, lessons hard-fought.

You are the storm and the calm in between,
A story unwritten, yet clearly seen.
And though you may wonder where this road bends,
Remember, it’s you who gets to write the end.

What more could I ask for
For I could have buried down to hell for my sins
But with you, it’s a heart that embers in gold
The shadow behind my thought
Flickering like the fading light of a storm,
Yet steady—like the promise of dawn after the night.

Where I was once dust, now I am breath,
Each word with you, an echo of what I could have been.
Your touch, the warmth that revives the cold,
A map to navigate the chaos within my soul.
In your eyes, a horizon I once feared to see,
Now the only place I want to be.

In a mystic haze
Of your heart's embrace,
I attain grace—
Yet beneath that fragile glow,
Lies a shadow I’ve come to know.

For one could not distinguish your despondence
Despite your hope
Let me mourn your agony
In abundance.

It’s the silence I crave,
There’s chaos in stillness,
Yet I wish to be beckoned
By the waves that hit the shore,
Their whispers a distant echo of things I’ve known.

Each ripple holds a secret,
A soft promise of release—
To let go of the weight of thoughts
And sink into the rhythm of the sea.

The shore waits, unwavering,
Yet restless in its quiet,
The tide returning with the same longing,
Crashing, pulling, and retreating.

I stand on the edge,
A wanderer between worlds,
Listening to the quiet storm inside,
Wishing to be claimed by it all—
The silence, the chaos,
The waves that wash it all away.

The embers of the past,
A lament that stirs my soul.
Time did fly—
Flowers withered,
Seasons shifted,
The last leaf fell,
But I remained.

Pinned to this barren land,
Nailed through my skin,
The wound that never heals,
Bleeding with every thought—
A weight that yearns to move on,
But still, I stay,
Stuck in the echoes of the past.

The illusion of healing,
Just a mirage in the desert of my heart.

I wish to be cradled by the sea,
Its waves wrapping me in their timeless lullaby,
Hugged by the meadows, where each blade of grass
Whispers ancient stories of the earth,
Kissed by the wind, wild and untamed,
Its breath a sweet promise of freedom,
Adored by the sky, endless and eternal,
A lover who never turns away,
Possessed by the stars,
Their light igniting the darkest parts of my soul,
Guiding me into a dream where I belong.

It’s the tranquility
I longed to be drowned in,
Even if I suffocate,
I’d know it leapt from what I’d become—
A monster to myself.

Even if I drown in desolation,
There’s still life in the stillness,
The quiet joy in my plea,
A glimpse of what I could have been,
If only I had not been my own monster.

But even monsters can unlearn,
Can find grace in their scars,
So I'll rise from the silence,
With whispers of who I’ll become.

Long awaits the dream,
Of what could cost the beauty, the life,
Drowned in the weight of endless what ifs.
What if I fall?
But the sky, it whispered—
Darling, what if you flew?

A tremor through my soul,
A repent that’s born of silence—
I am nothing but a rainfall,
Bound to fall,
Shaken by the wind's cruel caress,
Drowned in my own desolation,
Yet somehow still alive in this ache,
Like rain that clings to the earth,
But never stays.

I wish to be
Gone with the wind,
Swept into oblivion,
Carried by ocean waves,
Graveled into the earth,
Until I am nothing—
And maybe that’s enough.

The voice of silence cradles me,
Its emptiness louder than their shouts,
The embrace of a shadow
Softer than hands that never reached.

A fatalist—
A dying star—
Collapsing inward,
Not with brilliance, but with a quiet sigh.
There’s no light
On the other side of the tunnel,
Only echoes of footsteps
I was too afraid to take.

Hope flickers—
Not for salvation,
But for rest without remorse,
For sleep untouched by dreams.

Flowers fade slowly
In dewy spring fields—
Should I care for them,
When they bloom for a world
That never cared for me?

In a place
Where my voice dissolves into dust,
Where even shadows forget my name,
I wonder—
Is disappearing an act of loss,
Or simply a return
To where I belonged all along?

One day,
I will fall into the void—
My bones, bound to the earth,
Heavy with all I’ve held,
Sinking deeper into shadows
Where no light dares to enter.

My soul—
Tethered to the silence,
It whispers back to me
In echoes of a life I barely remember,
Fading between heartbeats
Like a breath taken and forgotten.

And your crocodile tears,
They’ll drown in the same emptiness,
For all the love you claimed to give,
Yet never understood
How to let it stay.

In the void,
There is no judgment,
Only the space where I am
Neither lost nor found,
Just quiet.

They always ask me,
Why do I wear that sweater?
They don’t realize,
It’s the embrace they failed to give—
The warmth, the tenderness,
The quiet support I carry.

My pillows bear the weight of my thoughts,
My silent, saline tears,
A quick hand to pull me from nightmares,
When the world feels too far away.

Heaven would be sinned if I spoke of your smile,
The one that pulls you from trenches and throws you to meadows,
Makes the wind lush against your skin,
Like the world couldn’t help but bask in your grin.

It’s the kind of magic that could unravel the stars,
Yet bind you to this earth with a quiet, lingering grace.
I carry it now, in the spaces between each breath,
A warmth that could melt the coldest of nights,
A light I’ll keep, even when the world fades away.

Until the stars burn out in endless night,
And all worlds crumble into endless flight,
Until planets crash in cosmic dread,
And suns, like forgotten embers, fade to red.

Until the moon’s pale glow is swallowed whole,
And rivers run dry, their whispers lost in the fold,
Until time steals the youth from my veins,
And memory dissolves in its bitter reign.

Until my tongue falters, lost for your name,
And my heart, like a flame, no longer burns the same,
Only then, when the world’s last breath is drawn,
Will I perhaps, in silence, let you be gone.

But until that time, my love, you shall remain—
A force that echoes, unyielding in my veins.

I’m the marrow in your doubt,
The splinter when you reach out,
Static in your clear transmission,
A fracture dressed as definition.

I’m the bruise beneath your pride,
The grin your guilt can’t hide,
A cipher etched in sleight of hand,
A kingdom built on shifting sand.

I’m the hunger in your feast,
The echo posing as the beast,
An atlas with no map to give,
The ruin in the way you live.

I’m the ache you chase to cure,
The flaw that makes you sure,
Not the ending, nor the start—
Just the shadow stitched to heart.

I have nothing of you
except your face in the dark,
your voice in the silence,
your words echoing in my mind.

I have nothing of you
except your smile in sorrow,
your soul in my essence,
and you—always you—
living in every corner of my heart.

In the storm, the butterfly folds,
its wings shattered, its soul cold,
resting, as the rain carves paths of pain,
each drop a memory of what once remained.

We are no different,
torn by winds, broken by time,
waiting for the silence that never comes,
clutching at fragments of hope,
drowned by the weight of our own breath.

It’s easy to believe that rest is peace,
but we know—
there is no solace in stillness.
Only the crushing weight of what’s lost,
what’s never to be found.

Yet we wait,
hidden in the dark,
knowing the storm will pass,
knowing we will rise again—
but only as shadows of who we once were.