Breathing smoke of silent cries,
Under moonlit, ashen skies.
Dreams dissolve in curling mist,
Lost in echoes, never kissed.

Fingers trace the fading light,
Chasing warmth in endless night.
Cinders dance where whispers fade,
Shadows hum the songs we made.

Breathing smoke of days once bright,
Drifting far beyond my sight.
Ashes settle, soft and slow,
In the silence, embers glow.

I like you—there, I said it now.
No fancy lines, no practiced vow.
Your voice? A song that lingers long.
Your smile? A spark that feels so strong.

It feels unreal, a little wild,
Like a daydream drawn by a love-struck child.
But here we stand, just you and me,
No need for grand, just let it be.

The flowers in my heart all know,
Whenever you’re near, they start to grow.
The world is loud, the crowd's a blur,
Yet my eyes find only her... you.

Let’s stay a while—no rush, no race,
Just soft night air and time to waste.
The terrace glows, the sun turns red,
Blushing like the words unsaid.

So here I am, no games, no clue—
Just hoping maybe... you like me too?

The sky wears my grief in a veil of storm clouds,
Each thunderclap an elegy, each lightning bolt a verdict.
Even if you wash away the crimson stains,
The echoes of your sins will never fade.

Why does sorrow weave my fate into thorn-laden tapestries?
Did my cries kiss your ears, or did you weave silence as a shield?
You shattered me into constellations of agony,
Each droplet a relic of your unatoned sins.

The valleys yawn like ancient wounds,
Rivers of rubies spill through their veins,
While mountains rise as merciless titans,
Laughing at my feeble hands that cannot scale their spines.

The fire you kindled consumed more than my flesh—
Only ashes remain, whispers of a tragedy embalmed in wind.
Yet my soul lingers, a wraith woven from anguish,
Drifting between dusk and dawn, pleading for reckoning.

Lost in the labyrinth of wailing willows, I hunger for justice,
Yet solitude devours me like a specter feasting on the guilty.
You were the beast cloaked in borrowed skin,
A shadow masquerading as light—could you not be human for a breath?

Justice rides the chariot of time, relentless as the tide.
Soon, the wind shall carry the taste of your own venom,
And the stars will script your downfall in the language of the gods.

Is this the end—
the final wilt of a flower that never bloomed?
My name fades like ink
washed away by merciless rain,
my dreams crumble
like abandoned sandcastles at dusk.

Where is the wildfire
that once roared inside me?
Now I am a candle,
melting without a flame,
a shadow chasing a sun
that never rises for me.

What is the point of pain
if it never runs dry?
It stretches like an endless ocean,
each wave heavier than the last,
dragging me deeper—
where light cannot reach.

I walk a road no one else takes,
where streetlights are ghosts,
where even the wind forgets to whisper.
The river beneath the bridge writhes,
never still, never calm,
just like me.

God, was it too much to ask
Wished for some hurdles to lessen,
But even the roadside grass
Knows no mercy under the weight of passing feet

I never wanted to beg,
but mercy tastes sweet
when you are starving.
Still, no hand reaches out,
no voice calls my name.

I tried to belong,
but I am the night sky—
swallowing all color,
never reflecting back the light.

Let me breathe—
but the air is an ocean,
and I am drowning in silence.

Want someone to skip a beat of my heart
Want my soul to rest without vanishing?
Want someone to notice—before I am gone?
God, is it really too much to ask?

I write my heart in lines of gold,
yet silence greets the words I’ve told.
Like petals lost upon the breeze,
my voice drifts far, yet none it sees.

I trace the stars with ink and dreams,
but shadows drown their quiet gleam.
Four hands that reach, yet still too few,
when all I want is to break through.

Is it the sky that hides my light?
Or fate that steals me from their sight?
But even whispers shape the sea,
and even unseen roots grow free.

So though the echoes fade so fast,
I’ll carve my name in time at last.

Maybe someday

The world of lies, with hollow eyes,
No, it is not the place for me.
You know I'm lonely—so lonely,
No one beside me, lost in the sea.

I long for a soulmate to carve a name
In the golden sands by the restless waves.
But the tides will come and wash it away—
Who do I turn to? Who will stay?

The sun exists, yet hides at night,
Just like me—I seem alright,
But deep inside, I fight my plight.

This world is a shadow, near in light,
Gone in the dark, out of sight.
This world won't change, I know it's true—
But one day, gold will come to you.

Let the dogs bark, let them sneer,
One day, their voices will disappear.
If they won’t let you fly, walk the sky,
If they block your path, keep moving by.

Push ahead, no matter how,
Chase your dreams, don’t stop now.
Without pain, life is incomplete,
Wings will sprout, though your back may bleed.

This world won’t change, but still, I try.
I am alone, lost in the night.
I don’t know when or how I’ll fall,
But I know—again—I’ll hit the floor.

****** tears from words that sting,
Yet life sways like a see-saw swing.
One day you're high, one day you're low,
But through it all, you learn and grow.

I stand upon the cliff’s last breath,
Where tides arise and thunder spills.
Scavengers circle, watching, waiting—
Yet life still lingers in my bones.

The clouds above, like silent judges,
Could break and drown my fleeting hope.
Beneath, the ocean coils and beckons,
A fathomless abyss of sorrow.

The silver moon, a gleaming specter,
Summons waves to pull me under.
I teeter on the fragile edge,
One slip, one plunge into the deep.

Lightning snarls—a voice of warning,
A jolt to burn or leave me scarred.
If not with fire, then silent shadows
Will haunt me long beyond this night.

I saw the algae, once alive,
Now ghosts adrift upon the tide.
The trees I passed stood tall together,
Yet whispered falsehoods to the wind.

Serpents coil around their roots,
Whispering promises of power.
Many fall to hollow hunger,
Chasing echoes, craving ruin.

But air is shared, though lungs may differ,
And souls define, not flesh alone.
Roots can mend, bear fruits of wonder—
Change, though feared, is never lost.

If you listen, let it guide you.
Nature bends but bids us rise.
Though the storm may rage relentless,
Yet even storms must bow to light.

The sadness falls in sheets of rain—
I long for an umbrella of love.
You are the Atlantic, lost in tides,
I am the Pacific, distant above.

Two waters that will never meet,
divided by fate, by silent war.
Loneliness hums in flickering streetlights,
shadows stretch, but mine is no more.

The mirror mocks with a cruel smile,
a stranger wears my skin and eyes.
If self-love is an illusion,
why can’t I stop despising mine?

My world, once golden, now Atlantis,
drowning beneath a memory.
The pillars that held my past and pain,
once strong with love, now start to break.

And as the cracks run deep and wide,
they show the truth I failed to see—
the ones I cherished, swore were mine,
were only ghosts disguised as peace.

El Dorado gleamed on the horizon,
but it’s farther than the stars abide.
Betrayal shattered like porcelain glass,
a wound too deep for love to hide.

Yet even ruin learns to harden—
one day, I will return the favor in steel.

I hum the quiet melodies of life,
each note bending toward your name.
You moved closer—effortless, inevitable—
as dusk leans into the arms of night.

Love is simple to define,
but your heart remains a cipher,
its rhythm shifting beneath my hands,
a tide I could never hold.

Once, I was your horizon,
the place where every journey ended.
Your gaze, weightless as stardust,
unraveled me in the hush of a smile.
From a distance, you watched—
like the evening sun kissing the sea,
departing, yet aching to remain.

When I stood at the edge of myself,
wavering between gravity and sky,
you pulled me back. But if love is a fall,
then let me descend into you.

Let me collide with your quiet ruin,
where even the breaking feels like flight.

It hurts so bad, I cannot breathe—
A storm within, I cannot leave.

My iron heart, once forged so strong,
Now brittle, cracking, something wrong.

What is missing? What have I lost?
Why does the past return, like frost?
The pain—it lingers, cloaked in rain,
Thunder murmurs all my pain.

Afraid to take one step ahead,
The ladder shakes, my soul has bled.
My legs, they tremble—weak, too small,
I know—I know—I’m bound to fall.

The air smells old—like ghosts, like time,
A bitter taste, a steep decline.
Why does the past still call my name?
Why must I burn inside this flame?

But even storms must break, must die,
And even pain runs out of sky.

So though I shake, though I despair,
I’ll climb—I’ll climb—through fractured air.

The scent of autumn lingers like an unspoken goodbye,
hanging in the air, thick with memories I cannot erase.
The crisp whisper of dying leaves grazes my skin—
a ghostly echo of your touch, fleeting and bittersweet.
Once, we walked upon these very leaves,
crushing them beneath careless footsteps,
the way you crushed my heart—without hesitation, without pause.

You vanished like the wind,
leaving no footprint, no farewell,
just a silence so deafening it swallowed me whole.
And yet, even in your absence, you haunt me.
What are you up to now?
Do you ever stop and wonder if the ashes of what we were
still smolder somewhere within me?

Time, they say, heals all wounds.
But what of the wounds that refuse to close?
Seasons passed, but the winter inside me stayed.
I thought I would move on with the turning of the leaves,
but my heart remained shackled to the past.

I nurtured us.
Planted seeds of tenderness,
watered them with love,
let the sunlight of my devotion bathe them.
But in the dark, it was only winterberry—
beautiful to the eye, poisonous to the touch.
And you, you did not just let it wither.
You diseased the roots.
You let it rot while I still believed it could bloom.

You did not just leave.
You hollowed me out.
You splintered my soul,
turned my love into a sickness I could not cure.
I was left clawing at the remains of myself,
desperate to bring life back to what you destroyed.

Now I walk, but I do not feel alive.
My heart no longer races, no longer aches—it is still, frozen.
My blood has turned to red crystals, sharp and jagged,
reflecting regret, hatred, frustration.
A ruin, a monument to everything we could have been.

Was it fate?
Fate is a cruel joke told by the heartbroken.
No, this was not fate—this was deception,
dressed in the warmth of a lover’s arms.

My lips, once softened by your whispers,
are now cold as winter’s first frost.
Had I known I was merely a pen in your hand,
used until the ink bled dry,
I would have never written our story.

Move on, they tell me.
As if love were a season to be endured and forgotten.
As if I did not love you the way Giselle loved—
blind, unknowing, doomed from the start.

I don’t have what they call success,
But that doesn’t make me any less.
I walk a path that’s mine to pave,
A different way—a road I'm brave.

No paper defines the worth I hold,
No stamp, no seal, no weight of gold.
Nothing to lose, nothing to fear,
I stand my ground, my vision clear.

I won’t fall begging for their boots,
I won’t steal—I’ll grow my roots.
Hard work builds, while greed decays,
I’ll walk the honest, brighter ways.

I fear no gods, but deeds gone wrong,
No villain’s path, no hero’s song.
I won’t be shaped by how they see,
I am the lead—my life, my key.

Their words can’t shake what I define,
I breathe, I stand, the sky is mine.
One day, I’ll rise, I’ll claim my place,
Their doubts won’t reach my guarded space.

I am not my past, nor sins before,
Not bound by blood that schemed for more.
I am the fearless, standing tall,
Unfazed by loss, untouched by fall.

I died the day I came alive,
Yet here I stand, I burn, I thrive.
The monster I once feared to be,
Now walks with pride—now walks as me.

A blue bloom where red ones grow,
Unfit for them, yet strong, I glow.
Let them judge, let whispers swirl,
I love myself—that shakes their world.

I waltz with the wind, a feather so free,
Pirouette past judgment—none sticks to me.
They call me a loner, a drifting tune,
But I’m just a comet, outpacing the moon.

The sun tips its hat, “Hey, how do you do?”
I wink and say, “Shining—just like you.”
The mist slinks close, all broody and blue,
I twirl through its whispers—sorry, not you!

The world hands me a rulebook, thick as a wall,
I turn it to paper planes—watch them all fall.
They build their castles on standards tall,
I carve out my kingdom where stardust calls.

Born in June, kissed by June’s breeze,
I hum my own song through the rustling trees.
I tango with raindrops, flirt with the sky,
A runaway melody, too bold to comply.

They nudge, “You must be living a dream!”
I sip my tea, let out some steam—
“A dream? Oh dear, if only you knew,
It’s just me, my pen, and a sky so blue.”

No filters, no frames, just ink that flows,
Dancing through life—however it goes.

The shimmer in your eyes—
A soft glow, a silent sonnet,
A universe where only we exist.
My teary-eyed love,
I don’t own you, yet I belong to you,
And you are mine, woven into my soul.

I watch the light bend in your gaze,
Refracting love like a thousand stars,
Scattering pieces of you into my soul.
The wind whispers our fate,
And I listen, tracing its song,
For every whisper speaks your name.

But if destiny dares to write us apart,
I will burn its pages to ashes,
Ink our names into eternity,
With the fire in my heart.

The veil of trust that graces your head,
I vow to guard it, cherish it,
With hands unshaken, with love unbreakable.
No storm, no time, no force of heaven or hell
Will ever make me let you go.

Be my bride, my moonlit prayer,
The sacred dream I wake to each day.
I will take your hand beneath the sun’s golden embrace,
Trace my lips across your fingertips,
And under the hush of the silver moon,
I will kiss you where our love first bloomed.

Let me be your home, your shelter,
The arms you run to when the world turns cold.
I will carry your burdens as if they were mine,
And walk through the fire so you never burn.

You are irreplaceable—my only, my always,
Not a mere chapter but my entire book,
Not a fleeting moment but my forever.

Let me leave this world before you,
Forgive my selfish plea—
For I cannot bear to see your tears,
Each one a crystal more precious than life itself.

I will not falter, I will not break,
For you, I would walk through the storms,
Through sorrow, through hell itself,
If it means leading you to heaven.

Every hour, every minute, every breath—
I am yours, as you are mine,
Now, always, and beyond the stars.

I shiver, the cold bites deep,
The world an open book—its lessons steep.
It whispers, You must not be you,
Yet mocks when doubt clouds my view.

They judge, yet say, Oh, just don’t care!
If it’s so simple, then why not dare?
I know—I swear—it is not my crime,
To defy the mold, to stretch past time.

I will rise, a tempest untamed,
Like the moon that calls the sea unnamed.
Not a thief of borrowed light,
But a fire that burns through endless night.

Underdogs walk with voices hushed,
Not for lack of spark, but trust—
For even silence shapes the great,
A force unseen, yet sealing fate.

The sky hangs low, heavy with sorrow, A shroud of dying light swallowed by dusk. The road stretches endless, ink-black and cold, A path carved from shadows, whispering loss.

Once, I feared losing— Now, the weight of loss has hollowed me out. My heart, a withered leaf, bends toward the earth, Too heavy to lift, too broken to mend.

The ailing earth bears its desiccation wounds, Silent cracks gaping like a mouth that forgot how to weep. Beneath, the tears fester, trapped in roots of grief. Above, the clouds swell, burdened with unwept sobs.

Little did the mist know— That sorrow shared does not make it lesser. Little did the earth know— That to weep is not to wither.

The laughter of yesterday lies buried, untouched, Ghosts of joy sleeping in graves of time. Memories drift in vapor, unclaimed echoes, Carried away by the wind, never to return whole.

Two roses once stood, entwined in silent promise— To shield, to stay, to survive. Now, brittle petals crumble into the dirt, Wilted souls crossing death’s threshold together.

Little did the mist or the earth know— The roses loved them too. Yet even as they withered, they clung, fierce, Their last wish: to leave behind nothing, Not even the pain they carried.

The rain doesn't fall; it drowns.
Clouds hang low, pregnant with sorrow, weeping endlessly.
Thunder doesn't roar; it grieves, splitting the sky open like a wound.
The earth, once thirsty, now suffocates beneath the weight of too much love.
It begs for flowers, for color, for hope—
But fate is cruel, and fortune never blooms in a flood.

The tree, once proud, stands broken, breathless.
Its limbs, heavy with sorrow, bow to the ground.
Some snap, some shatter, some sink into the mud, forgotten.
No birds, no fruit, no whispering leaves—
Only bare, trembling bones of wood remain.
Once, the rain was a melody. Now, it's a requiem.

A train runs on weary tracks, but its journey is silent.
No laughter in its compartments, no warm hands waving from the windows.
Just empty seats, echoing with ghosts of friendships that never stayed.

The engine—once burning with dreams—
Now chokes on the ashes of what could have been.
It rusts beneath words like "Move on."
It crumbles beneath whispers of "Stop exaggerating."
The coal of passion has turned to dust,
And the wheels—exhausted—drag through the days, waiting for an end.

A track switch, a desperate turn—
But the new path is no salvation.
It floods with hollow sympathies, drowns in veiled threats.
The storm howls, then vanishes, leaving only drought behind.
And the train?
It no longer moves. It no longer breaks.
It simply exists—numb, rusting, forgotten.

I know you're waiting—
Not just by instinct, but by soul.
A thread binds us, unseen yet strong,
And I swear to protect it, never let it fray.
Wait for me.

For your peace, for theirs, I must fight.
Discipline is law, obedience is fate,
Yet my enemy, too, has a family that waits.
Why do we fight, when we could simply be?
Why do borders carve wounds into destiny?

I do not know of gods,
But I hear your prayers, whispered through time.
I will return, my love, no matter how many stand in my way.
Victory matters, but so does the weight of a soul.
Each life I take—someone waits for them too.
Each thread I sever—someone’s world shatters too.

I love you, yet how can I abandon this field,
When my brothers-in-arms fall beside me?
I see their last breath, hear their silent pleas.
I need your empathy, not just your faith.

Bullets, swift and ruthless, know their path.
A soldier's purpose is clear, but is it right?
Our goals are noble, but our road is painted in blood.
The paths we choose, the lives we lose—
And still, I long for you.

Three borders stand between love and war,
Three lines drawn in dust, dividing hearts.
If I return, if fate allows,
Let’s leave behind these walls,
And drive far, far away—where war cannot follow.

I know you're waiting—
not by instinct, but by soul.
Like the silver moon calls the tide,
like roots whisper to the earth,
we are bound by a thread unseen,
delicate yet unbreakable.
And I swear, my love,
I will never let it fray.

But for your peace, for theirs,
I must walk this battlefield of fate.
Here, discipline is law, steel is truth,
yet the men I face—do they not dream?
Do they not have hands that once held love,
eyes that once gazed at a home?
Why must we carve wounds into the soil
when all it ever did was cradle our steps?

I do not know of gods,
but I hear your prayers,
soft as the wind, warm as dawn.
I will return to you, my love,
no matter how many shadows stand in my way.
Victory calls, but so does guilt,
for each name that fades in the dust
was once whispered by someone who waited, too.

I love you, but how can I fear
when my brothers fall like autumn leaves?
Their blood seeps into the earth,
their voices linger in the wind.
I need your faith, yes, but more—
I need your sorrow, your understanding.
Let me be strong, but let me grieve.

Bullets are sharp-tongued messengers,
swift, ruthless, never lost.
They find their mark with unwavering grace,
but tell me, my love—does grace lie in ruin?
Our cause is noble, but our hands are stained.
Our road is paved with purpose,
yet flooded with ghosts.

Three borders, nothing more,
yet they rise like mountains between hearts.
Three lines drawn in dust,
and we call it war.
If I return, if fate is kind,
let us leave this all behind.
Let me take your hand,
and drive far, far away—
to a place where war cannot follow,
where only love remains.

Memories we made,
our twenties like gold,
where time stood still,
and love never grew old.

I grew beside you,
step by step, hand in hand—
of course, I remember,
every moment, every glance.

Those precious days—
our eyes first met,
our voices intertwined,
blindfolded in love,
fingers laced in the winter's cold.
You always lent me your glove,
by the campfire, wrapped in warmth,
hushed laughter dancing with the flames.

I still have the shawl—
woven with love,
stitched with whispers,
threaded with promises.
Every fiber holds a memory,
every word you spoke, a treasure.

We fought, we mended,
love—never fragile, never tame.
We adored the golden leaves,
never once realizing
they were old and fading,
just like fleeting time.

Spring came,
the flowers bloomed,
bathed in honeyed light.
The sunset kissed your face,
orange hues ricocheting off your skin—
My love, how beautiful you are!
I fell for you, again and again.

Summer burned bright,
yet through your curls, I found shade.
We shared icy desserts,
whispered wishes for endless summers.
I drowned in your gaze,
a universe in your eyes—
your touch, a heartbeat quickening,
your embrace, a universe won.

"Don't leave me," I pleaded.
"I never will," you promised.
But love, fate is cruel—
the universe shattered,
taking a part of my heart with you.

I loved you fiercely,
cherished every moment,
every breath we shared.
"Cry, but not too much," you once said.
So, I won’t—
after all, I have always been obedient.

Did you receive the flowers I brought this morning?
I visit you every day, but today feels different.
Today, my love,
is the day you left me.

Memories we made,
our twenties like gold,
where time stood still,
and love never grew old.

Rest peacefully, my angel

The one who stands unwavering,
Through every storm and restless tide,
Who turns your troubles into whispers,
And wipes your tears with pride.

She works in silence, day and night,
So you can rise and shine,
A beacon in your darkest hours,
Her love, the brightest light.

In a world of false promises,
She is the one true vow,
A rare rose without a thorn,
Blooming where no others grow.

She walks barefoot on shattered glass,
Clearing every jagged piece,
Bearing wounds she never shows,
So your path remains at peace.

She is careless when it comes to herself,
But careful when it’s you,
She carries your worries like her own,
And makes the heavy feel light too.

She pushes you beyond your limits,
So you never fear the test,
For life will throw its hardest trials,
And she’ll make sure you’re prepared best.

You’ll never know the weight she bears,
Unless you stand where she once stood,
She breaks the walls of fear and doubt,
And turns them into something good.

She shields you when the cold winds blow,
Yet never asks for warmth in return,
She gives, she bends, she quietly breaks—
Yet asks for nothing in return.

Yes, I speak of your greatest warrior,
The one who makes you strong,
The iron woman, the gentle light—
Your mother, all along.

Love—so pure, yet so painful.
It either breaks you or makes you whole.
It distracts from sorrow,
Yet can be the source of it.

We dance in the rain,
Our time never wasted, never in vain.
Sharing a single meal, dividing every bite—This is all we can afford, my love.

I have little to give, and I won’t pretend otherwise.
I can’t offer you the moon or the stars,
But I’ll light a lantern to guide our way.
We’ll build a small home, just enough for us—A tiny door, but endless space in our hearts.

No gold, no silver—just us.
Rich in love, standing tall without wealth.
Through the coldest winters, I’ll never leave,
And in every spring, I’ll celebrate you.
No grand journeys, no cars speeding away,
But under snowy skies, I’ll always stay.

With all my heart, I love you.
No riches, no grandeur—just this promise.
This simple, ordinary poem is yours,
Forever belonging to you, my love.

Love—so tender, yet bittersweet,
A force that mends, yet breaks with ease.
It soothes the soul in moments brief,
Yet leaves behind the deepest grief.

We dance beneath the silver rain,
Where time is never spent in vain.
A humble meal, a modest share,
Yet love alone sustains us there.

I cannot promise worlds so grand,
Nor place the stars within your hand.
But in the glow of lantern light,
We'll build a home, serene and bright.

No wealth defines the love we weave,
For riches fade, but hearts believe.
Through winter’s chill and springtime’s bloom,
I vow to stand, through light and gloom.

No gilded throne, no vast domain,
Yet in your arms, all joys remain.
This simple verse, though plain and true,
Belongs forever, love, to you.

When the weight of the patriarchy presses on my shoulders,
when my body bleeds in cycles, when birth is a battlefield,
I wonder—will they **** it if it’s a girl?
The book has its rules—were they ever just?
If justice lived in ink, I wouldn’t be writing this poem.

She cries, but her tears freeze—
a cold society, a colder breeze.
Whispers coil around her ankles after divorce,
judgment sharper than the wind.

The mother walks alone, carrying a piece of her body,
a universe cradled in tired arms.
She whispers, I will not let them trap you in this abyss,
my little beauty, my little star.

She walks, even when weary,
nurturing the seed she always admired.
The man left her,
just as he left another daughter.

Who gave him the power?
Neither God nor the constitution,
but the heavy hand of society’s blind tradition.

Yet the mother stands—iron-hearted, unbreakable.
She tends her garden with calloused hands,
waters her children with love,
lets them bloom beneath a sun that others have long forgotten.

Still, the world turns on its irony:
the kind-hearted walk on shards of glass,
while snakes sip wine from Bordeaux crystal.

They call it balance—
give and take, they say.
Yet a woman always pays the price
for the desires of men.

When do you think was the last time we hugged?
When do you think was the last time we kissed and cuddled?
Yeah, it hasn't been so many days,
But trust me, I’m already breaking in a thousand ways.
Don’t — don’t just walk in front of me,
You’re my neighbor, and it’s killing me.
Why did it have to end like this?
Was I not as pretty as the other girls you kissed?
Why did you break my heart like it was nothing?
Are you even human to hurt me this stunningly?
You changed the way I looked at the world,
The flower bloomed, new to the world.
It only knew warmth, like a mother's care,
It never imagined cruelty could be there.
But now the petals wither, no light, no rain,
And you call it "exaggerating" — was love just a game?
Then I know… you never knew love.
I saw you at the same café, sipping cappuccino,
You looked through me like I was a ghost you used to know.
Was I not kind enough, not sweet enough to taste?
Did the pancakes I made feel like a bitter mistake?
The scarf I knitted with love — did it not warm you through?
Did I ever mean anything to you?
They say drugs are the worst addiction,
But you were worse — a pain with no prescription.
The love I gave — pure and kind,
Now the lens I see the world through is painfully blind.
Even if I heal, I know one thing for sure…
The scars you left, love won’t ever cure.
They say drugs are the worst addiction,
But you were worse — a pain with no prescription.
The love I gave — pure and kind,
Now the lens I see the world through is painfully blind.
Even if I heal, I know one thing for sure…
The scars you left, love won’t ever cure.
The flower never knew the world could be cruel,
It thought love was pure, but you broke every rule.
And now the bloom has faded, like a dream undone,
But you’ll never know love — because you never loved anyone.
I might move on, someday, I swear…
But the damage in my heart? — No love can repair.