Category: Poem
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The man’s pinky finger bore a secret universe. Encased in polished black, the ring’s stone was a fragment of the cosmos, a piece of the night sky, trapped and held forever still. Within its obsidian depths, echoes of vanished starlight swirled, a silent testament to galaxies once free, now held captive on a mortal hand.
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In a home where safety was a fleeting concept, I found a purpose in a broken-winged dove. The garage became our sanctuary. While my world outside was loud and unpredictable, in there, I was a healer. He gave me a quiet, predictable peace, showing me that true strength isn’t about weathering a storm, but about…
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When history is a forgotten art, And all that’s made has come undone, You’ll find the echo of my beating heart Woven in with oblivion.
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It’s like the ghost of a tomorrow, A joy you didn’t get to borrow. A phantom ache for a life half-glimpsed, A sentence that you left unlimpsed. The muscle memory of a choice You didn’t make, that has no voice.
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I become the keeper of firsts and of lasts, A living museum of futures and pasts. The notch on the doorframe that measures the height, The smudge on the wall from a pillow fight.
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“My coat was woven from a moonless night, my eyes are twin-lit lamps of emerald light. I do not roar to prove my right to reign; my silence is a far more potent chain.”
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The afternoon sun dipped low, casting a syrupy, honeyed glow across the landscape. Long, skeletal shadows stretched from the ancient oaks, striping the dry, golden grass. Dust motes, once invisible, now danced in the slanted beams of light like tiny, fleeting sparks. A profound stillness settled over the valley, a warm and peaceful weight before…
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“Do you ever think about what life would be like for us if things were different? If miles did not divide us? I picture it sometimes, in stolen moments. Little things, mostly. Waking up next to you, the smell of coffee brewing in our kitchen.”
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Beyond the measured beat, the clock’s insistent chime, There lies a fragile hush, a breath outside of time.
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“But with this immense feeling comes an equally immense fear. It’s a cold, heavy thing that settles in my chest whenever I think of telling you. What if I’m wrong? What if I’ve built this all up in my head, mistaking friendship for something more? The thought of your face shifting from warmth to pity…