The spark is dead; this is the dawn of my dark eyes.
They no longer hold the light of hope,
for I have witnessed the forbidden,
tracing your features in every passing face.
You are a phantom that knows no borders—
appearing anytime, anywhere.
I am haunted by my own silence.
Is it because I am pathetic?
Or just a desperate child?
Perhaps it's because I left your questions hanging,
though you never reached to answer mine.
while your own questions remain a cold, open void.
Every day, every night,
my only solace is escaping your love and lust,
fleeing the weight of your constant gaze.
But I cannot resist the pull;
I find I love the person,
even as I fear the ghost.
Apr 18
Apr 18, 2026 at 9:37 AM UTC
The spark is dead; this is the dawn of my dark eyes.
They no longer hold the light of hope,
for I have witnessed the forbidden,
tracing your features in every passing face.
You are a phantom that knows no borders—
appearing anytime, anywhere.
I am haunted by my own silence.
Is it because I am pathetic?
Or just a desperate child?
Perhaps it's because I left your questions hanging,
though you never reached to answer mine.
while your own questions remain a cold, open void.
Every day, every night,
my only solace is escaping your love and lust,
fleeing the weight of your constant gaze.
But I cannot resist the pull;
I find I love the person,
even as I fear the ghost.
