Flying through the abyss,
Nothing but darkness.
Everything wilted—
Not even eyes glow with fondness.

A dark hue in the air,
An aroma thick as musk.
This odyssey has left me stuck—
In thought, in place.

This land where even stars don’t fall,
The moon swallowed by a thought long gone.
These nights where no light is found,
Where heartbeats are not meant—
Is where I’m most content.
—s

A heart worn thin, still standing,
held up by wages and routine,
racing to seem put-together,
starving for praise, chasing the sheen.

I mend these wounds in silence,
behind walls that never speak.
I laugh where echoes answer,
longing for death each fragile week.

The days slip by unnoticed,
time erodes what made me real.
Even the mirror looks away,
and shadows flee what they can't feel.

In this room that breathes but hollows,
every wish sinks and dies.
What remains is just a vessel—
a pulse that lives, but never tries.

Let me drink the light your eyes have touched,
A glimpse to still the tremor in my veins.

I drowned in the sea of melancholy but, I will make sure you reside in my heart eternally

In the summer our love lingered, no thoughts foresaw our future withered.

My eyes blinded me mouth shut my veins cut to bleed my heart out, But your thought in my mind felt like sun’s warmth during wintertime.

Though our hearts, minds and spirits broken I regret the words never spoken, we know our love was never fake.

I cried you wiped the tears of my eyes, the old him ’n’ her died, love molded us every night we spent together

And now I drown in the sea of melancholy my legs caught in sorrow, regret and pain slowly pulled below never to be risen again.

It began with a crack in the fabric of thought,
A wound where the echoes of yesterday rot.

The wind still lingers in corridors bare,
Sifting through ruins that once held a prayer.

The walls have swallowed the voices they knew,
Their whispers now drowned in the dust they outgrew.

A name once carved in the spine of the trees
Now crumbles like ash in the grip of the breeze.

The door stands ajar, but the threshold is blind,
No footsteps return to the halls left behind.

The moonlight weeps where the laughter once lay,
Its silver now tarnished in folds of decay.

The river once carried reflections of light,
Now drinks only shadows that drown in the night.

The mirrors are hollow, their faces erased,
No eyes left to hold what the past once embraced.

The books lie open, but silence has bled
Through pages where voices of ghosts should have read.

The scent of old letters still clings to the air,
Yet their ink has unraveled like time unaware.

The clocks have surrendered; their hands twist and pale,
Choking on hours that splinter and fail.

And still, the void adorns itself with stars,
Cold embers drifting through time’s rusted scars.

But the crack in my thought now threads through my chest,
A hollow where memory sinks into rest.

O dream of dust, unmake me, erase,
Let nothing remain—not shadow, not trace.