I am too fragile to let people penetrate into my inner world,
Too shy to complain about something, to express my dissatisfaction,
So sensitive that their words become burdens heavy to carry,
Too emotional to handle the turmoil that haunts my heart.
I am chaos, a strange one, always known as being unknown,
Silence and time spent alone are often my refuges,
Thus, my story becomes hidden, an untold and forgotten tale,
Yes, I am often misunderstood, as if I stay in my comfort zone.
But, honestly, it's not a comfort zone, but rather my own universe,
A place where I find myself, where I weigh my thoughts and dreams,
A sanctuary of silence where I can clearly hear my heartbeats,
An esoteric refuge where light and shadow dance in harmony.
Here, where reality and imagination intertwine in silence,
I build my world from dreams and unspoken desires,
A place where time loses its meaning and I can truly be myself,
Living in my own world, a story of unspoken words.
flawed and fragile
this lonely heart of mine
bruised and tired
Oh my!
On the blossoms
Of the apple tree
You, butterfly
Keep sipping
The nectar
of the honey
As long as you desire
No police inspector
No dissenting voices
Curbing your choice
Just the flowers
Offering
Dense brown syrup
With the wind's sway
Stirring the DNA
Blurring the universe
Spectrum of blank verse
Regardless of the purse
No stress
Just embrace, press
and caress
In excess too
Nile in overly blue
Don't digress
Even for a moment
Yesterday, today
and tomorrow
All illuminated
On your wings
No strings
Agile in style
The clock's hands
Are fragile
craving to be seen
yet stray retort shatters me —
my glass mask splinters
every piece tilts my face back
at angles I can't endure
one word in print scalds
smoke sears my lingering thoughts
blinding tomorrow —
fragility weeps like wax
from a candle I keep lit
still, I sift slivers
threading them in songs and verse
knowing they might cut
to make strangers laugh or cry
it's worth each crimson spot
The sky shifts slow,
heavy with unspoken storms.
Breaths come shallow—
a tightrope walk on frayed threads.
Yet inside, a quiet fire glows,
rising through the cracks,
refusing to be snuffed.
Don't push me to the brink
Where life's spark starts to fade,
Lest I lose the will to live,
And hope's light is betrayed.
27 July 2025
He is no longer in love with me.
His spoken words flesh caught like dull razors.
Churning pains toss me in raw seeped reelings.
I feel feather fragile as weighty aches
conflict and trip me upon foreign ground.
Heavy, my eyes are merely tear-weak slits.
God, in prayer I do ask, with mercy come
and ease my wrecked self with gift feels of numb.
Expectations brings
about self deprecations,
sometimes I wonder if
the thoughts running
through my head are
my own or somebody
else’s?
The world lives
in constant turmoil,
waves crashing,
tides swerving in
and out from open-
ended beaches,
abysmal delays of
the lighthouse directory,
guided by supplemental
shocks of lightening
rays trajectory.
I stand firmly in front
of the baseless sandcastle,
a fragile foundation of
past voices from lurking
shadows who slowly
poisoned its interior,
lack of motivation,
wandering in between
spaces incoherently,
my mind in anxiety help-
lessly what I could
not understand,
the words stare back
at me in silence gradually
suppressing the last
bit of life found closing
in underneath,
time holds on as
it falls into deep
sleep.
truce
fragile;
a ceasefire
unlikely to
hold.
You don’t know what you do to me
When your eyes meet mine that way.
You light a spark, then turn and fade—
And I’m alone with what I can't say.
Broken hearted, I don’t know how
To say the things I need to now.
You don’t see what’s in my eyes—
And I just don’t know why.
The moment I saw you
It felt like I’d known
The beat of your heart like it mirrored my own.
Misty, I need you—Misty, it’s true.
Please tell me that you feel it too.
Misty, I love you—can’t you see it’s true?
I’ve been holding this inside, just waiting for you.
Misty, I need you—can’t you see?
You stole my heart so easily.
Misty, I love you—just say it too—
I’ve already promised my love to you.
Without you I’m drifting
With nowhere to land
Please give me a reason
Please give me your hand
Misty, I love you—and always will
Waiting in limbo, but loving you still.
The first time I saw you,
You won my heart—
But loving you Misty is one fragile art.
Fade into the void,
pale and unseen,
a whisper of silence,
dim murmured echo.
Unheard and unremarked,
an absent fragment,
of drifting haze,
that lingers unseen.
Fragile, easily shattered,
weightless and distant,
an obscure hollow,
of faint gray dust.
Blurred empty thought,
foggy and fractured,
like an unfelt sigh,
flickering invisible in the murk.
O veiled shadow
of former self,
ashen phantom
of better days,
am I but a fleeting shade,
doomed by fate
to wilt and wane,
and fray at the edges,
to shiver and wilt,
until vanishing,
simply disappear?
Not even a glimmer
of self remains.
Clad in bright white sapphire
Millions crawl, the exhausted lay to admire
Within its swelling eye thousands desire
At the back I lie, waiting to expire
Scratching the walls without respire
I danced into crossfire
With a soul which yearns to retire
Lips littered with satire
A heart prosecuted to hellfire
Still, my porcelain surface shone as if a luminaire
Slowly the winds fill me with tire
Yet for the last time, my body rose high of inspire
Amidst the silent woods, my mind's a wildfire
All that remains, a mind left in quagmire
a paper bird falls beside my hand — too cold to hold or mourn
She rose at dawn
and laid the mat,
not from longing,
but from old habit.
She bowed, then sat,
hands curled in form,
but the heart lagged—
a breath behind.
Whispers once lush
now stumbled dry—
echoes of names
once called with fire.
The tasbih clinked
without intent,
rolling bead by bead
without a soul.
She used to plead,
soaking her sleeves,
but now she blinked
and called it done.
Ameen, she mouthed—
not out of hope,
but in fear of what
silence might mean.
Her faith remained,
tired and thin,
folded like cloth
kept from the sun.
She loved her Lord—
but the fire dimmed
in the hurly winds
on dusty paths.
And so she kneels,
devout and hushed,
with prayers unsaid
threading her tongue.
One day, she hopes
her tongue will stir,
and her lips will lift
to pray aloud again.
A silver bird departs, the sky serene,
Yet morning’s promise shatters in a breath;
Ash falls where laughter and bright hopes had been,
A city mourns the sudden hand of death.
In distant hills, a traveler’s path grows cold,
A journey meant for dreams, now left undone;
The news arrives—too heavy to be told—
A vanished step, a race that’s never run.
Where rivers wind through valleys deep with pine,
And pilgrims seek the solace of the land,
A shadow falls, intentions intertwine
With violence wrought by an unseen hand.
Yet through these veils, uncertain as the night,
We hold each fragile day, and seek the light.
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