Blueprints of Absence
—
silent gravestones,
building blocks of distance,
cathedrals raised in pixel-dust,
unread.

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Crimson Benediction

your love is
a sonnet drifting
through amber
winds, where dusk
scatters verses in the air,
soft as devotion.

it lingers—
like ink on parchments,
sepia
and sacred,
blooming in the quiet breath
of a sigh.

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Nocturne of Ember

Faltering,
the trembling sun
bleeds through umbral silence—
a bruise upon the breath of dusk,
unheard.

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Scaffold of Sovereigns

A veil of deception,
stitched from ballots, torn by hands—
a voiceless uproar
rattles the throne of promise,
paper crowns in paper lands.

The tongues of tyrants
gild the rusted guillotine,
pledges drip like wax,
molding idols out of clay,
kneeling to their own façades.

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Fever of Ink

Frayed paper,
a fevered oracle,
spills quiet
lacunae—
words that bled but never spoke,
ink-bound purgatory.

Fingers trace
the lost constellations of
unsent lines,
where silence
is the language of the soul—
a vow left smoldering.

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Poetic tears etch elegies on the parchment of dawn,
where love, a vagrant minstrel, treads on unwritten song.

Ink-stained psalms unravel in the labyrinth of breath,
each sigh a votive flame, flickering in love’s wraith.

Time’s alchemy dissolves us into sepia specters,
cloaked in longing, wading through soliloquies of embers.

Your absence—an unstrung lyre in a chapel of echoes,
where silence kneels, whispering psalms to vanished halos.

I gather the remnants of you in cupped hands,
offering them to the altar of my becoming.

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Reverence of the Tide

Lover’s
silent gospel,
nacre and nautilus,
a vow pressed into centuries,
unbent.

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A Light I Cannot Hold

If it hurts, let it—
some wounds are lanterns, burning
through the jinxed hush of longing.
You are the sun, untouchable,
a prayer I dare not utter aloud.

I have learned—
love is not a chain but an offering,
not a hand that clutches,
but a heart that opens,
even if it trembles.

So I kneel to your light, unbitter, unbound—
for love is not to claim but to give
until nothing remains but the giving.

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August wanes to ash,
lilac longings lacquered deep,
Purpled promises perish
September spills amethyst,
a love lost in lavender lies.

-

Love lingers in
quiet rust,
blooming where
goodbyes
took root.

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