I held my tongue when you walked away,
Told myself it hurt less not to say.
But silence only made it burn—
Some lessons, you don’t choose to learn.

I rarely cry, I play things cool,
But you broke through that guarded rule.
A bed, a hand, a whispered truth—
Then nothing. Like you’d just cut loose.

You gave me hope, then took it back,
Left me questioning what I lack.
I wasn’t some girl passing through—
I was a friend who cared for you.

No closure came, no words to mend,
Just quiet from someone I called a friend.
So here it is, my final line:
You hurt me—deep. But I’ll be fine.

Cool aqua marine
Stillness sinking into blue
I wait for the sun

My fears sink down deep
The pool offers little warmth
I wait in the sun

Questions float in time
Waters answer in silence
I wait with the sun

Unwritten lines upon a pristine page
waiting for a hand to bid them speak,
muted wings of tawny hunting owls
swift soft and to feed a midnight beak,
a peal of screaming bells
which have no tongues to sing
is this silence, waiting to be filled
or is a nothing held within these things

In the hush between heartbeats,
I hear the echo of your laughter
a memory not yet made.

You, a whisper in the wind,
me, chasing shadows of a smile.

If you feel this too,
leave a word behind
let’s write our story together.

Two souls collide in the quiet expanse,
Where silence breaks to an ancient dance.
He is logic, cold and withdrawn—
I, the silence just before dawn.

He and I—by fate entwined—
Mining the ether as truths unwind.
Sworn to reveal what the gods withhold,
Etching our life in celestial gold.

Atoms fuse in sacred designs,
Aging starlight in cosmic lines.
With the shock of death, a truth rung:
Not two, not none—nothing ever begun.

You gaze—yet truth has slipped the frame,
A tide too vast for thought to claim.
In vaulted halls where echoes fail,
Sound stalks like smoke, too thin to trail.

We dream in frames we cannot fuse,
See fractured signs and call them truths.
The sun must drown for stars to speak,
While cycles turn, and silence reaps.

Eyes half-shut miss the arc of skies,
And worship forms as if they're wise.
But those who cling will hear the chime—
Again and again.
Time breaks its crown, then reigns in rhyme.

Without you
Without me