there's an ocean behind her eyes
an ocean in which she drowns
it's unlike any
for no light reaches
perhaps,
it's the waves
which she can't pull herself out from
they tug her in
they drag her back
and she pours in
she melts
she returns
as if she had never left at all
there's a desert behind his struggle
and between the sun-kissed orbs
that loved to gaze on the sun
there's a hollowness he feels
it was as if he walked around
on naked feet
and upon broken shards of glass
but there’s a duty he bears
as if suddenly turning older
it meant becoming atlas
with the world upon his shoulders
and his own became ash
but he stays quiet
lips tightened shut
even if the silence weeps
and there's so much to say
but the words are already lost
between what couldn't have been
and between what was
at least most
and there's so
so many paths to walk on
but her bones ache
and he doesn't remember the last time
he had taken a breathe and had sat down
and they might meet,
between holding on and letting go
they might meet on the wrong road
or on the middle
or in the end
at the right time
at the wrong place
and in between
just two strangers walking by
they might meet
in one gaze
in a single glance
and it would take little
to see the ghosts
of what they used to be
crawling behind
and the trail of blood
it would take very little
to see the ashes of dreams
upon their feet
to see the water
and to see the sand
it would take very little
Mar 7, 2025
Mar 7, 2025 at 4:13 PM UTC
there's an ocean behind her eyes
an ocean in which she drowns
it's unlike any
for no light reaches
perhaps,
it's the waves
which she can't pull herself out from
they tug her in
they drag her back
and she pours in
she melts
she returns
as if she had never left at all
there's a desert behind his struggle
and between the sun-kissed orbs
that loved to gaze on the sun
there's a hollowness he feels
it was as if he walked around
on naked feet
and upon broken shards of glass
but there’s a duty he bears
as if suddenly turning older
it meant becoming atlas
with the world upon his shoulders
and his own became ash
but he stays quiet
lips tightened shut
even if the silence weeps
and there's so much to say
but the words are already lost
between what couldn't have been
and between what was
at least most
and there's so
so many paths to walk on
but her bones ache
and he doesn't remember the last time
he had taken a breathe and had sat down
and they might meet,
between holding on and letting go
they might meet on the wrong road
or on the middle
or in the end
at the right time
at the wrong place
and in between
just two strangers walking by
they might meet
in one gaze
in a single glance
and it would take little
to see the ghosts
of what they used to be
crawling behind
and the trail of blood
it would take very little
to see the ashes of dreams
upon their feet
to see the water
and to see the sand
it would take very little
