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?

A torrent of tears breaks the dam of despair,
Each friend a dagger in the darkened air.
Unlovable? I curse the stars that bind,
A prophecy whispered, a torment entwined.
I scream to the void for the numbness of night,
Worn by the ghosts who vanish from sight.
Trust turned to ashes, heart buried in dread,
Craving the silence that sleeps with the dead.

The air, once thick with solitude, now spins
a riveting breeze through guarded hearts and skins.
We spoke in currents, our words like woven lace,
and now my restless mind finds its rightful place.
Yet still, my thoughts drift like ghosts on hollow ground—
Is this a fragile dream, destined to break back down?

To love is to feel, pain is in its wake,
Sometimes the shadows of heartache
Cloud my vision, my joy they might take,
But I remember what’s at stake.

Our love may not be perfect, it might be flawed,
But it's the purest love I've ever known
But in no universe are we not together,
In no life, no realm, are we not forever.

As rocks, as butterflies, as cats and as seasons,
We find our ways back, no matter the reasons.
Though the winds of change may blow,
Our love remains, our roots always grow.

I used to think I knew what love was,  
Until I felt my heart begin to fall for you.  
It was like watching a sunrise burst across the horizon,  
So easy, so beautiful, and so effortlessly true.  

Each moment with you feels like a piece of heaven,  
Each glance in your direction, the greatest blessing I've known.  
Just the sight of you is enough to fill my soul with light,  
To know I've found my heart's true home.  

Your presence is a tapestry of formosity,  
A beauty so profound, it's beyond simple words.  
I know it's not a common term, yet it's perfect to describe  
How you've become the melody my heart has always heard.

Grief-stricken, I clawed my way from the roots of the earth,
The cadence of my thoughts slowed, a murmur in the hush.
How strange—the absence of absence, the hollow space where shadows
Once drifted like smoke, now filled with an uneasy light.
Relief woven with a longing I can’t quite shake.

I was held captive, a willing prisoner of the gloom,
Addicted to its weight, to the darkness like a drug.
It wrapped around me, a cold and familiar lullaby—
Or was I the one who fed it, needing its grip to feel alive?

Now that it’s gone, I miss it from time to time,
My truest form of love—why did you leave me here,
To navigate this world of light that feels sharp and unkind?
Your absence lingers, a void I struggle to fill.

“What about me?” it whispers, lingering like a half-remembered song.
I crave that dark familiarity, though I know I shouldn’t—
It’s the chill beneath my skin, a weight that kept me anchored,
A presence I knew too well, even as it smothered me.

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.