Despite years of learning
to be independent,
your ghosting can
still act around,
but I'm the happiest
introverted woman
in this corner;
I no longer
belong to you.
I belong to my mess.

In your fake gardens
There was a vivid
Semi-orchard,
I couldn’t enjoy
Its little brightness,
I’m a fanatical
Believer in darkness
I used to be zealous
For Gothic literature
And Beyond,
Hear my colorless void
Exclaiming : for the sake
Of its melancholy’s dose.