Kuvv

I am a museum of our old memories,

gathering dust and forgetting how to breathe.

I am an art gallery

where we used to go every Sunday.

In the quiet hum of a Sunday evening,

a memory returns

and the candle wax falls on my finger,

a cold reminder on the finger

where the ring you gave me once was.

I used to lose myself in the moon and then in your face,

and I understood then why poets wrote about

the moon being the second love, after you.

@echo-temporis you just made my day! Thanks for reading my wordy little messes.

My soul became a bridge of light

Between the day and quiet night.

The sun gives fire, the moon gives peace

And in their pull, I find release.

I glow where both their powers meet,

with warmth and calm in every beat.

No longer lost, no longer one...

I am the thread from moon to sun.

There is a wound in me shaped like your name

curved in like a chiffon veil

mourning the loss of

a love that arrived too late.

I did not plead for you to stay

because I knew nobody stays.

I could have clung to your shoulder

like a spider on the ceiling.

But you were no ceiling

You were the sky that hid the moon,

afraid of the rain...

You were the void of the universe,

or the universe itself.

I was,

I am just some dirt drifting through space,

aching

to belong.

There is a mouth in me

full of moss and memory.

It does not speak,

only hungers.

hungry for your memory to come alive

hungry for you to come in my dreams

and for you to hold my hand/

and to stay a little while.

I...

All these confessions start with 'I'

I love you.

I miss your eyes.

I dont want to let you go from my mind.

Why cant it be something like

You love me?

So now I shake with the thought of you

How can you not remember me?

All this, and still

It echoes back nothing.

I wanted to tell you,

but your eyes

had already looked away.

So I held the words

like rain in my hands,

knowing they'd slip through

no matter how tightly I tried.

You didn’t break me.

You just walked past

the place I had cleared

for you.

And still,

some small part of me

waits there

quietly,

just in case you ever look back.

I thought love was loud

storms, fireworks,

something that burned.

But you came

like still water,

and I learned

that love can be deep

without needing

to make a sound.

I don’t need the stars,

just your hand in mine

on ordinary days.

You don’t make the world disappear;

you make it softer.

And somehow,

that’s enough