It's August again.
The rain patters on my window pane.
When the sun is out once again
I hope the white light is blinding.

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Power bends the world to its will,
Crowning the strong, silencing the still,
A shadow that hungers, yet never receives a fill.

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A breath of peace in chaos loud, a blessing softly lies,
Not always seen, but felt like light beneath the darkest skies.

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Ode to Self

O self, quiet storm and silent flame,
Bearer of bruises no one ever named,
You walked through fire and wore it like silk,
Fed your heart with thorns, drank hurt like milk.
When voices wavered, yours stayed true :
Even when cracked, you bore right through.
You gather your pieces with trembling grace,
Wipe your tears and light your face.
O keeper of the ache and lightning spark,
Climb your brightest star-crossed mark.

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the world was not a merciless dystopia anymore.

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Pain

It wears no face, yet carves its name
A silent artist, with a perfect aim.
Streamlined sorrow in the quietest hues,
Whipping the soul in shades of bruise.
No scream, no wound for eyes to see,
Just ruins, like drapes, in memory.
It walks beside but speaks in trace,
A shadow stitched in time and grace.

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Conditional Love

Love, in her world, was a ledger :
Affection tallied, devotion taxed.
A gaze withheld for missteps slight,
Warmth dispensed in measured acts.
She became performance in human form,
Grace sculpted to survive approval.
Her fractures, met not with balm but silence -
A penalty for being (un)breakable.
Beneath chandeliers of borrowed light,
She learned that softness must be earned.
Love, here, was not a sanctuary
Only a gilded noose disguised as care.

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I flicker in between silence and song,
A breath held brief, yet endlessly long.

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Beep!
You have 1 New Message : "I’m almost there."
Beep!
A flatline.

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Beneath the silence, a thousand truths reside,
Each unspoken word, a storm we choose to hide.
The soul weighs more when dreams are left to rust,
Even stars collapse, if no one dares to trust.

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