It would be silent,
As the day fades in orange sundown—
Muted, yet violent,
Surreal—a nonchalance ghosting a town.

Among the last of Augusts, this is;
It would never bleed—it doesn't need to.
She will move on after the last kiss,
Leaving a heart bound to his stubborn creed,
A drifting soul, freed and unfreed.

Silence against the lethargic atmosphere,
A kaleidoscope of a day no more.
A yielding spine, a dying personal new year—
A wave never coming back to the shore.

I saw them; they didn't see me that day.
I smiled. I sighed.
My August will never stay.

Sometimes, she walks like the world crumbled on her...head...
Perfect! Just perfect. So I dubbed her Perfect.
The eyes of her silence see the here and there—maybe what’s ahead.
I laughed. There’s nothing that I can’t detect.

Her nickname is Trouble. Her real name is Mine.
I claim danger. Arrogantly. Safe of being unsafety.
Like shoes that have no path. I feel fine...
Sometimes you fly toward infinity.

What if I’m someone I’d walk away from, if I could?
What if I’m someone you bury in silence?
What if our glances are eternal but meant only for should?
What if our joy belongs in an alternate existence?

I want to have the privilege of being yours,
To lock you in my arms forever... I do...
The cliché is true: when it rains, it pours...
And like me, you don't believe in god too.

Earlier, my desk almost broke in my tantrum.
A friend took so long. That’s a lot...
I was evicted from my columbarium,
But I saw you. I love your haircut.

I see you. I always do. I am all-seeing.
I even hear you. I hear everything. I am my own god.
But you have the power to cut my being,
Yet you will never, ever see blood.

There was something in my columbarium
That had been there since my return.
I took it with me, for my equilibrium—
Not an urn, but perhaps 'twas a lost turn.

From my private oblivion, the first the eyes had taken—
I really hate the world, the way 'twas mixed.
I am reforged. I cannot be broken.
I see you. I love the way your hair is fixed.

Somewhat Thankful: Ended. A joke.
An afterthought adrift in favorite songs,
Floating with the swirling smoke
I exhale across the pages of what went wrong.

I forgot to pay my rent yesterday…
I window-shopped for shoes instead.
I deserved them—I had to face the day,
For pain, I always choose to tread
Quietly. Privately. Until it fades
Into a place where no one hears —
Where breaking hearts decay in shades
Not of blue, but blackened fears.

I smiled, knowing it was true.
And somewhere, Satan quietly cheers.

I am letting you go now... now.
Outside, the rain is waiting
To take me somewhere—somehow.
Roadwork ahead, traffic's suffocating.

Their eyes land on the toilet
Printed on my shirt. They smile.
I smirk, "Not for flushing to forget—
But somehow to make the soul fertile."

One, two, three — my heart is dead,
Not because of you, but by my choice.
It’s not love that I dread,
But the raw pain in its voice.

Watching the world through a bus window glass,
The universe, the time, the vastness—
And still, there was never us.

Silence, like a glass thrown up in the air
Then exploding, its shards like a nagging echo
Raining on a heart, and it's so unfair
To bleed for love that is not there... Is there,
Through this weary way of silence, I must go.

I would turn around then I would not turn around,
Your smile and glances preserved in my mind,
And in my heart, reenacting in the sweetest sound,
The dreamed embrace, the joy missed, the love undefined
Through this weary way of silence, I would find.

With my eyes abandoned of you, fixed ahead
These weary feet, to nothingness may be led
But at least now with a direction to go,
One major burial,  strange, a final song in my head
Through this weary way of silence, I know.

I've seen this before, a walk of nowhere to go
But perhaps, a bluer mojo rain shall fall for me
The road free, clearer, braver, kinder and timely,
Truth undenied, fear deposed, honesty not in throe
Through this weary way of silence, you know.

Some-Velvet-Briars/ May 25, 2025/ 2:51 AM