My perfect face, my perfect form,
It’s been some time since you crossed my mind.
My perfect eyes roam, longing for features that will never be mine,
Yet I am not sad; I carry the essence of my kind.

I wish I didn’t dwell, though I was sailing well on this rocking ship.
My mirror lies beside me, a truth I yearn to eclipse.
I could seize it now, as effortless as dispersing a speck of dust.

My perfect face, my perfect form become what I wish,
I hate to love you and ache for your kiss, but...

In reverie, I plait your name with mine,
Our hearts aligned beneath a silver line.
The stars above, they waltz in velvet skies,
And in your arms, the world in silence lies.
A whispered breath dissolves the air we know,
Time slips away, as moments softly glow.

Like driftwood, carried by the moonlit sea,
The waves embrace our fragile destiny.
Beneath the tides, where silent dreams unfold,
A fleeting warmth amidst the ocean’s cold.
Yet still, within your gaze, I drift, serene,
A quiet light within the vast unseen.

I hand-stitched you to my heart, threaded like the gods make their rules from above.
Oh, my delicate wonder, do you wander where my mind dares not rove?
All my preposterous atrocities are mine to give, and for you to love—
But will you love them?—is my wonder. Yes, you will—the Fates weave.

Oh, my tragic imperfections, you stand like my Trojan horse,
A gift of beauty, yet ruin hides within,
If your eyes could pierce the veil of my sin,
Would you fall as Troy did, or rise once more?

I feel the wound, fragile but bold,
Our names to be written on a grave, together etched in gold.
Side by side, we’ll lie beneath the earth’s embrace,
Two bound by fate, neither time nor death can erase.

As we march toward the end, hand in hand with fate,
Two souls entwined, neither early nor late.
And when death whispers, we shall not part—
For love, like legend, buries us both in heart.

and if words could dream
they would spend each night
yearning for a way
to justify how deeply
I love you

My lids rise soft to frosted space,
Where absence dwells yet holds your place.
I see your face, so sweet, so dear—
Soft as petals, ever near.

Your breath, my favourite rhythm’s song,
A lullaby I’ve loved so long.
Your cheeks rest gently on the bed,
A pillow blessed beneath your head.

In this dream’s haze, I draw in close,
My lips to yours, a butterfly’s ghost.
And now I wonder, could it be?
Perhaps the pillow is worthy of thee.

We burned for a moment, then you pulled away,
Returned to the dance where your lies led the way.
What I called love, you twisted to your cruel charade—
You left me once more, and still, I stayed.
I clung to the echoes of your bitter refrain,
Masked you as breath, though you brought only pain.

To you, I was a ghost adrift in your dream,
A shadow that whispered where nothing's as it seems.
I don’t miss you now, nor dwell on your face,
But I wonder—what thrill did you find in this chase?
Was hurting me easy, a means to an end,
Or did you believe the lies you pretended to send?

I waited in darkness, a flame nearly gone,
Yet found in the ashes the will to move on.
Now you are the one who’s lost in the night,
Chasing my shadow, lamenting your plight.
You cry, "How could you turn and leave me this way?"
But the hurt you inflicted has led you astray.

Did it ease your own torment, or calm your regret?
Was it solace you sought, or something darker yet?
For all of your leaving, and all of my trust,
What did you gain by grinding me to dust?

Am I a Hyacinth in a field of lies,
Or a shadow that blooms where the daylight dies?
You call me beautiful—a rose without thorns—
But roses are wilted, and petals are worn.
Let the wind shut your eyes as night butterflies soar;
They flutter on secrets, but I ask for no more.

The mirror whispers what I wish not to hear—
That beauty is borrowed, that truth disappears.
Yet I’ll play the charade, wear the mask till it cracks,
For a lie is much kinder than what reality lacks.
I know where deception and desire entwine,
But I’ll drink from that cup and call it divine.

In a world where the surface is all that they see,
What harm in pretending that mask is me?
They say looks can deceive, but darling, so can the mind—
So let them believe in what’s easy to find.