I ache as if I’ve lost a star—
something rare, burning bright,
a light I thought would guide me home.

But when I search the sky,
I find the glow is not gone—
it lingers in my chest,
a quiet fire that was mine all along.

Perhaps I miss the way you shone,
but maybe what I mourn
is the mirror you held,
where I first saw
how radiant I could be.

City of Human Kind
by MoonWolf

I sat today and watched your way—
Some rushed past, some chose to stay.
A man asked coins to buy his bread,
Others hurried on instead.

Men in suits with eyes down low,
Children watching grown-ups go.
Beggars searching, lives undone,
Girls laughed, a thief had run.

Crowds queuing, taxis flash,
Policemen pacing, brief eye clash.
Some walked mindful, breathing slow,
Others lonely, nowhere to go.

[Chorus]
People of all kinds appear,
One race—called human—gathered here.
Old, young, dark, light, strong, small—
And love?
I saw it in them all.

A painter bent with brush in hand,
A flute’s soft song across the stand.
The rich, the poor, the right, the wrong—
All carried in the city’s song.

Just a moment, yet a day,
A lifetime seemed to walk my way.
From city heat to country night,
I left with silence, stars, and light.

The storms began—
wild, relentless,
a fevered sky unraveling,
shadows tearing
at the garden’s heart.

Winter struck hard,
its ice a prison,
yet beneath the frost
the roots still burned—
aching to rise,
aching to bloom.

The sun was hidden,
but not gone.
I felt it glowing
behind the dark—
a secret flame,
a promise waiting,
a light to return.

The wind came savage—
a thief, a lover—
shattering walls
I thought unbreakable.
It stripped me bare,
yet in the ruin,
light was born.

No goodbye—
only silence.
Yet even silence
throbbed with your name,
and in that name
I came alive.

Years have passed,
yet the wind remembers.
It stirs my nights,
it drives me restless,
wanting more.

It is not over.
I am still here—
your light,
your storm,
your dawn returning.

When the storm breaks,
I will not hide.
The light in me
will find the light in you.

Too Rare to Hide

Three months passed,
and I dared to ask
if the ghost of us still lingered in him.

“I do,” he said.
A dagger wrapped in silk.
A truth spoken,
then locked behind someone else’s door.

He misses me.
Yes, he feels it.
But he chooses the safe walls
of another life
over the fire we had.

I see it now:
my love was never a secret to him,
only a shadow he could glance at
without stepping into its light.

But I am no shadow.
I am not a whispered thought
to be hidden
in someone’s quiet, comfortable life.

He may remember the ache of us,
the weight of what he let go.
But I—
I will not be the heart that waits
behind locked doors.

I am too rare
to be someone’s secret.
And one day,
he will see the loss
that comes from mistaking comfort
for love.

I see you,
river that will not stop running,
grief curled into the corners of my eyes.

You come because I loved,
because my heart was brave enough
to believe in forever.
And now forever is silence,
and silence is heavier than stone.

I ache for his return,
but I know—
if he cannot hold the weight of my love,
he cannot hold me.

So cry, little heart,
spill oceans if you must.
Every tear waters the seed of tomorrow.
Every sob is proof
that I lived,
that I dared to love,
that my spirit has not gone numb.

One day,
these rivers will run clear.
One day,
I will rise from their bed,
shining,
carrying not the loss,
but the fire that loss could never steal.

Until then—
I will let myself weep,
and know that even in sorrow,
I am still becoming.

Roses in the rain

At dawn she walks the cobbled path,
hands full of crimson blooms.
Mist clings to the city stones,
the wind whispers through empty alleys.

Her hair glows gold, braided with blue and yellow,
a lantern for unseen eyes.
She offers roses to passing shadows,
but none speak her name.

The day stretches, long as rivers,
her feet chilled, her arms heavy.
The streets echo with her quiet steps,
and at night she returns
to hollow halls where only silence waits,
and a shadow stumbles through the dark.

Still, tomorrow she rises again,
selling her blooms to a world that forgets,
the rain draping her like a veil,
her spirit bending but unbroken.

Sometimes, when the city sleeps,
I see her—a ghost moving between the streets,
a bloom in each hand,
a story whispered only to shadows.

The Sea’s Embrace

By moonlit waves and whispered wind,
I claim my heart, my soul unpinned.
Through salt and spray, through tide’s embrace,
I swim, I glide, I find my space.

Seals watch quietly, rocks keep the lore,
Of a soul untamed forevermore.
No chain, no shadow, no bitter grief,
Can touch my spirit, my quiet belief.

I am alive. I am free.
Mermaid beneath the endless sea.
I take the water, the wind, the sky,
And let my fierce, wild heart fly.