~
Gilded glitter spills from her wells;
In a field of marigolds,
Aureate sap oozes
From cracks in amorphous sky-dust,
Abdicating the weight
Of the Lord’s empyrean.
A surrender to altruism,
The wrath of amorous horizons.
~

A heart that desires nothing,
Now loses on empty evening,
It loses everything.
Brick by brick,
It breaks you completely.
Write it quick,
And leave the world discreetly.

Easy you go there,
Where nothing is pleasing,
A disturbed mind — strangely appeasing.
Bigger the talk, lesser the thing,
The last wish could be a walk,
Or it could be a ring.

Answer the questions,
Play it with skills.
What is obsession?
Don't count all the kills.
Far and far it is —
The world you miss.

Rise and rise,
Yet you don’t climb.
The harder the fall,
The harsher will be the rhyme.

The closer I feel to you, the further I feel from myself.
Searching for something I don't know.
Keeping my watchful and trained eye focused on something I might never find.
A  burning and meaningful way of being loved, unlike anything I've ever experienced before. The kind that makes you ache when it's not around and long for its touch again.
Have I never seen this before, or had I not appreciated it when it was within my grasp? Did we have this, and now it's gone?
If it's gone, is it gone for good?
Are we hopelessly bound together, or are we hopelessly in love, just searching for a way back to what we once had?

I used to talk too much.
Nowadays, I just sit in silence.
I want to tell everyone how I’m feeling—
I want to talk about everything.

But when the time comes,
“nothing comes out of my mouth—
nothing I truly want to talk about.”

So I speak of daily things,
of weather, work, what we ate.
I nod. I listen. I float.
But my soul—
“my soul wants to say something,
But I shut myself down.”

Inside me,
there’s a scream that no one hears.
It claws the walls of my chest,
cries in pain, grief, sadness—
like it’s been caged for years.

There is a trench,
deep and echoing,
carved by time and distance—
“created throughout the years of my life.”

While many grew
in the warmth of their parents’ arms,
“I spent my childhood far from them.”
I learned how to be silent
before I ever learned how to speak.

I feel emotions.
“I just don’t know how to express them.”
And when I try—
when I dare—
“it goes horribly wrong.”

I want to open up.
I want to tell someone.
I want to say:
This is how I feel.
Please understand.
Please stay.

“But when I do, everything goes south.”

So I quieted myself.
I taught my voice to whisper,
then to vanish.
I tried—
“and still try—
to talk less, to stay silent.”

But the silence isn’t peace.
It’s pressure.
It’s weight.
“I failed before,
and I’m still failing.”

Now I don’t know what to do anymo'.
I am deep below my own trench,
and still falling into the deep, dark below.

Will I ever hit the bottom?
The point where there’s no further down—
only up? I know I feel like a clown.

But still,

No more confusion.
No more sadness.
Only hope and happiness, I guess.
Peace of mind.
With all the past behind.

I feel lost. I don't feel like me.
I feel like I’m falling.
I feel empty inside me.

- THE END -

© 2025 June, Hasanur Rahman Shaikh.
All rights reserved.