The Weight of Words
“I’m sorry,” tossed as a stone,
each syllable heavy on my tongue,
as we weave these threads of consequence
into a tapestry faded yet bright,
woven with wisdom whispers,
and the gleam of a gamble gone grim.
And indeed, I am intimidated.
of the perils housed within every breath,
of the silent storms hurrying through cheeks,
as pleasure and peril intertwine with a puzzle
each reminder a blooming flower of regret,
plentiful plans, now plagued with pain
The night navigates, we don our diadems
of heartbreak—vines tightening around hearts,
cradling the lessons learned amid bruises,
as guilts and grievances, as amiss guests,
linger over evening tea, reminding us softly,
not all facets of existence extend an extra time,
no notion that nuances will nurture forgiveness.
as daybreak dispels drowsiness from tired tresses,
as dawn dances and shadows shrink swiftly,
I seize shining options, shroud them in scarlet,
carrying my burdens from yesteryear’s twilight—
a painter’s brush drenched in deep melancholia,
sculpting a heart that learns to care for its frailties
as threads glimmer softly in the vast dark,
weaving the pain, allowing for a graceful glow.
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