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 Mar 24 Taru Marcellus
Zeno
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I don't know what I was looking for,
in the honey draped lights flashing
in my eyes
And the sound of music
that keeps on playing and playing

And the wind that laps over my face
as the world turns,
Like horses running on axis,
weaving through the lines of shadow
and fireworks
And in their trail, I found
stardust that shimmers and shimmers

I found it confusing sometimes
In the endless mirrors and lights
that spirals in my mind
Like vines coiled around poles
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And the looming sweetness that lingers,
like pink foam swirling in my mouth

I smiled towards the dying sunset,
thinking it would last forever
I try not to close my eyes
and not be blinded
by the world slowly slipping
away

Before the music dies
Before the yellow stars burn out
You might not hear my voice
or even remember my name
But I just want you to know that

I was here

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One step in—
the air bleeds thin,
heat curling at the walls,
lungs straining
beneath your brand—

One look—
the room sways,
the way fire bends
before it gives in to wind.

One smile—
a burning magnet,
searing my thoughts
laces undone with just a look—
knowing when to forget
how to hold back.

I meet you there—
skin against skin,
a shiver between shadows,
a heartbeat, staggered and wild.

Your mouth—
an invitation between gasps,
a tide swelling, slipping,
breath against breath,
falling further in.

Fingertips etch urges,
scrape constellations into skin,
the night between palms and sheets—
a hunger deeper than air.

You collapse,
the world now a quivering mess—
a slow-burning ruin,
softened into embers,
breathless—wanting more.
I’ll keep on telling you that I love you—
soft as dust on lace,
a whisper tucked in velvet drawers,
a melody wound into time
by trembling hands and silver keys.

Like the ballerina turning in her little glass world,
I’ll spin my love in slow circles,
over and over—
even when the tune grows thin,
even when the gears grow tired.

When the cogs in my mind lose their rhythm,
when the clockwork in my chest falters,
when my fingers no longer reach to hold you—
still, somewhere beneath the hush,
my heart will echo its worn refrain:
“I love you, I love you…”

Until the spindle stops,
until the lid closes gently,
and all that’s left
is the scent of old music,
the silence that remembers
the song we once knew.
into the
   glitter of
your own
               (un)holy
                       shimmer—
            a reckless
   riot of
jo(y)
       that burns
too bright
          and leaves
   you hollow
   like a house
after the
          storm

   oh!
to feel alive is
   unbearable
       (the world
sings)
          in your veins
   a song
           you never
   learned to hold
     (the weight
of breath)
          like a
     broken elevator
   plummeting
into the dark
               basement
       of you

“i’m fine,” you say
                     “this time”
       (you promised)
but here you are—
   back in the
      hollow,
           dragging
the weight
        of your
    own
   lies

it tastes like
rust, regret,
      (the blackness)
sleeping feels
like sinking—
   how do you tell
them you’d
        rather not
   wake tomorrow?

“i’m sorry”
        sticks in your
throat;
they want your
           light
but you’re out,
   out like
   a flickering
candle
          (the itch,
   the need)
to chase the
   next high,
               a needle,
     a prayer—
and still,
    it spits you out
           again,
this cycle,
   this sickness,
        this burden
      no one asked for

you sleep, hoping
to find a softer
   somewhere—
far from the
      endless climb
and the crash,
   wanting to rest
forever,
         but you wake,
            again.
and again,
   and again.
in the heart  
   of the earth  
where shadows weave  
      and whispers flutter  
like light on water—  
i stand  
   a solitary figure,  
yesterday’s weight  
   melting away,  
a cloak of memory  
   unraveling at the seams  

the sea sings  
   a lullaby of blue,  
secrets breathed to the wind,  
while grass—a tapestry  
   of green—  
bends low, cradling  
      truths,  
soft echoes of love  
   unspooled  

i gather remnants  
   of dreams,  
fragments like shells  
   on the shore,  
each a promise,  
   a sigh,  
caught in the web  
   of what might have been,  
lingering like haunting  
   melodies  

was it quiet surrender  
   that opened my chest  
      to the sky...
was it freedom,  
   unshackling  
the heart from chains  
   of desire,  
that led me  
   to this sacred silence...

and still, colors sway—  
   a riot of life,  
the world unfurling  
   in wild bloom,  
and i, a traveler,  
   grasping  
at threads of existence  

the grass bends,  
   humble witness,  
never breaking,  
   always yielding,  
teaching me the art  
   of resilience,  
the gentle dance  
   of endings,  
woven with new beginnings’  
   promise  

here, at the horizon  
   of my soul,  
i learn to embrace  
   the ebb and flow,  
to let go, to surrender—  
for in the quiet,  
   i find life’s pulse,  
and understand every farewell  
   is but a breath  
away from hello.
My mind, ruminating,
thoughts eating themselves,
snaking longer, longer,
like that old Nokia phone,
remember?
The game we played—
winning meant losing space,
meant swallowing whole.

I can’t stop it.
No off switch.
No pause, no rewind.
Memory flickers, a broken reel,
an unreliable witness in my own courtroom.
Why did I disassociate?
To survive, to vanish?
Was I drunk on innocence,
or did I crave your love so much
I kept my mouth shut,
called my silence devotion?

You—
standing there in my shadow,
writing your story over mine,
turning my quiet into consent.
But I was always spinning,
always folding inward,
splintering.

Now I haunt the game,
chasing the tail of what I was,
swallowed by the loop,
still wondering
if I’ll ever find the center.
When the blue silence presses,
and absence carves its hollow,
I search for a rare diamond,
a glint of you,
of us,
among the drifting days.

You, all edges and precision,
the logic mind.
I, the artist,
unruly and alive,
painting between your lines.
Together, we unmade the fractures
and called it a whole.

A dragonfly hovered—
fragile, fleeting—
a reminder of your soul
and the weight of what you left.
The brittle smile you wore,
I held it once,
felt the shatter in my hands.

Now, I sketch the absence,
and you map its edges.
Between us,
a quiet collaboration.
No need to name the loss,
no need to claim the light—
we move as one,
carving truth from shadow.
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