As neon pulses through a sleepless night,
The sidewalks bustle with wandering ghosts,
And vapor rises — a mist of pale steam
From streets that glint beneath an autumn rain.

I see a woman in a ruby coat;
Her shadow pools round her feet, like spilled ink,
As she tries to mouth a name through the haze —
A name unheard over the subway’s groan.

She’s gone before the streetlights flicker, but
Her shadow lingers a moment longer,
Stretching out beneath the gilded lamplight —
But was she ever even there at all?

No answer falls with the September rain,
No hint comes drifting on the pallid mist.
And still the train rumbles on unconcerned,
And I can’t recall why she had mattered.

The neon curdles within its veins,
While darkness swallows the ruby echo,
And I walk these streets among the phantoms,
To fade at last into the night once more.
©️2025 David Cornetta

How tiresome it is to hang on to fleeting things
Not really feeling at what moment they losen their grip
Realising that finally they don’t need you with in
Realising that it was just a fleeting thing .

How tiresome is seeing depth in everyone , everything ?
In a way that makes your hands ache from the aimless digging
Just to not find what you search for in it
Wasting so much time for a fleeting thing

How tiresome is  trying to be perfect in everthing?  
Failing miserably addicted to sin .
Drowning so deep, sorrow eats you within ,
craving to be more than just a fleeting thing

How draining is being nothing to someone who’s your everything ?
How much does it hurt one’s soul to be left vacant of it’s heart ?
Desperately filling it with everything and anythings
A pathetic attempt at fixing-

-what could be mended with a simple kiss.


-k

What are the things you hold onto?

lavender petals
and oceans of breeze
I twist wind around my fingers
because it’s so free
I cling on to departures
& doorway exit chats
I grip table conversations
where napkins fall to the floor
and we unknowingly
covered in crumbs and crumbled
pastry, coffee and lavender tea
I hold onto
friendships and moments
and when the ground starts shifting
I still
like static wind
like irony

It’s like the fleeting
Were the only circumstance
That carried any meaning
Clear after the moment’s gone.

Living in each without presence
One’s self betrayal - the inner essence

And you create a mask so naturally.
Self-validation through seductive fantasy.

A learned love of silence
In which a sense of safety dwelled
attempts to quell the loneliness
That external chaos drowns

A sense of rootlessness
but for the place inside.
Foundation shaking
Threatening one’s very pride

Your honeyed words a threatening temptation
My straining against all logical resistance
Futility, inconsistency, my current preoccupation
Acquainted with your craftiness

Hearts can only take so much
So we take it back to the place where nothing began
And remember to forget
What never was
And find the path to the light again.

Can’t rush through the pain
Stop to savor each moment
Maybe it’s the price for what I’ve caused the others

There is beauty in the transient
But I want to freeze it.
Because silence is sometimes a shrill
Cacophony of discordant harmony

Wooden,
hardened,
treated as a door with none but emptiness beyond.

Walk through me, pass through the scented door.
Cherish the ever so little sanctuary the door provides.
Hold dear to the beautiful scents of the door.

A door holds no lasting imprint on those walking through it,
yet every grip on the handle leaves a stain.
Some are what you carry along,
others merely a passerby.

How have I gone from one to the other?
Taught by life, for if your back is to a wall, none must stab it.
How must I live when eternal bonds know not the path to my heart?

Forever stained by the shadow of solidarity,
protected from the burning warmth I once craved,
bare to the cold I once hated.

Truly, time is all.

The cigarette burns, I watch it fade,
Like the smoke that loops, like the love we made.
Infinity twists in the cold night air,
Mocking the "forever" that led me here.

She’s gone, but I still wear her ghost,
Clinging in nicotine, stitched in my sleeves.
The scent of goodbye lingers the most—
Smoke stains stay, but she had to leave.

Kingdoms fall and empires fade,
Once great but now the world forsakes.
Look instead on those unseen,
For earthly things will lose their sheen.