She lets him dress her, at last.

Her limbs move with uncertainty, but the taller figure is patient. Always patient, when it comes to her.

He guides her arms into soft white lace. The dress lies gently on her ribs. His gloved fingers adjust the collar, tugging the pink bow at her throat into a perfect knot.

The little bell dangles beneath it, but makes no sound—
he quieted it long ago, preferring the sight of it to the chime.

When he finishes, he doesn’t step away. Instead, he cups her face and kisses her forehead.

“There you are.”
As if she had been missing.

Goodbye.
A final farewell to a chapter that’s ending.
A word that many consider permanent
A word that is everlasting

If we want temporary,
Trying replacing with see you later.

That way the door is left open
That way the chapter hasn’t ended
The page hasn’t turned

That way I know you aren’t finished with me.

he grew
in the shadow’s cradle
where light was a stranger
and silence spoke in thunder.

among the red flames,
he stood
a dark flame itself,
unyielding,
sharp as obsidian.

not softer,
not less
but forged
from the stillness
between storms.

his roots drank from broken earth,
his veins held stories
etched in crimson glass,
fractured but gleaming
a quiet war
etched beneath his skin.

they called him wild,
a thorn without a rose,
but he was more
a sentinel of shadows,
a keeper of scars,
a guardian of unseen battles.

he bled without sound,
he bore his fractures
like medals of fire
each shard a testament
to survival,
each wound a map
of the battles he won
without surrender.

he did not seek to belong,
only to endure,
to thrive
where others would break,
to bloom
like the black thorn
that thrives
in the night’s embrace.

she bloomed
in the hush of night
where the sun dared not reach
and the wind whispered secrets
no red petal could keep.

they called her strange
a shadow among flame—
but she stood, velvet and midnight,
thriving
where silence kissed her roots.

among the red,
she did not wilt—
she shimmered.
not in gold,
but in obsidian grace
wrapped in the perfume of grief
and galaxies.

she was not less.
only different.
a hymn of thorns,
a waltz of ache.

the roses around her
spoke in bright laughter
but she sang
in echoes—
in lullabies
dripping from glass edges
still stained
with the stories of those
who held her too tightly.

there was beauty
in her breaks—
shattered, yes,
but glinting with stardust
and crimson.

she had bled
where no one could see
and still
she stood.

not because she was untouched
but because she was unclaimed
by ruin.

she was not born to belong—
she was born
to remind the world
that even darkness
blooms.

“please! just tell me what’s wrong! why are you always so angry and distant all the time?!  i’m trying to help you why won’t you let me??!”

“you just wouldn’t understand, this is something i have to deal with on my own”

and then he felt it
the feeling of her trying to break down the conjured barrier around his thoughts
the feeling of her trying to see him the way she can see everyone else

“STOP IT”
he yelled slamming her into the wall without even touching her skin
“STOP TRYING TO GET IN MY HEAD”
the girl that was never afraid now looked completely terrified
he loosens his mental grip he had on her body , looking into her violet eyes and pulls her close
“i’m sorry love”
he whispers
“it’s just too dark in here”

What do you say when there’s nothing to see?
Where no boxes, tablets, windows of light
Can show our minds, memories and myths.

Who will tell us of the world?
Once again, a wandering band
No longer connected,
broke free of our copper strands.

We know of so much,
but never once spoke,
The lost art of narration,
Oh how the mighty fall in a night.
And yesterday’s trivial past times,
now the source of all healing and joy.

Speak loud your tale!

Our ears hungry and minds starved,
As greedy children we never once said,
Thank you mother, father,
for your stories before bed.

With so much we Gorged and devoured,
Before we realised we are always empty,
Time wipes away all that we hold

except!

for the storyteller,
The true judge of our history,
The holder of our truths.
It was this god you needed to please - for else,

who will know of your name?

God, what I would give for one more moment with your lips pressed against mine, your hands running down my spine, but the thought feels so sickening. A sickeningly sticky sweet fantasy.

Every waking moment is a reminder of your departure.

I still see you in the window, the wind blowing the curtains behind you, your silhouette perfectly outlined by the morning sun. The scent of your perfume still lingers throughout the house, as if you had only just left for work. You should have quit working there a long time ago; they didn’t treat you right, so why did you feel that you just had to keep smiling and put up with it?

But nights are the hardest. I can’t stop hearing your laughter as I try to sleep, but the bed is so cold without your warmth. My dreams are plagued by your face, but even so, I’ve noticed it’s begun to fade, so much so that I feel I can only see you in the pictures that hang on our walls.


I can’t keep from wondering what those final moments were like for you. Did you think of me or did it go dark in an instant, quick and painless? Why does he get to keep on living when you don’t? He is the one who messed up, so why did you have to pay for his mistakes? But he walked away, so intoxicated that he had no true grasp of the situation, yet neither did I. Would I have known, I wouldn’t have…

It doesn’t matter, not anymore.

You were the one shining light in my life to live for, but now that you’re gone, I’m left without a reason to keep going. But, I have a plan to see you again. After all, I have nothing I’d regret leaving behind. I know what you’d say about it, but let me have this one selfish wish; this is the only thing left that matters to me.

See you soon, my love.

So much losses had me losing faith,
so much setbacks had me doubting if there's ever going to be a way,
so much potential seems driven away,
so much efforts that never yielded to gain,
so many struggles with no success attained.
But we can't give up just because we fail, right?
For what's faith without loss? What's breakthrough without setbacks?
What's potential if there isn't a trial?
What's success with no stories of struggles?
It doesn't fit, so I will iterate again.
Hopefully, God will be on my side.

That feeling of being obligated.
Like a signal mom caring for a child that is not hers.

In the same way you came to me.
For whatever reason you adored me, like a child meeting their favorite superhero.

You admired my works like nobody else.

I admired the love you gave to me.
It was warm and unfamiliar.

So I stayed in bed a little longer.
The look that you gave me was passionate and ready…a burden on my back.

Something I could not repeat with my physicality.

I am a stranger to love and because of that I must vanish.

Leaving an oblivious note that you will read.