Poetic Stories

I search the sky.

I beg to find your light

lost among a thousand stars

just as bright.

You turn away and I fight for you in vain.

My tired eyes grow used to only pain,

till hollow, hopeless, shutting into void.

Then quiet.

Through the black a soft light flash.

So long I searched for you into the outer space,

while all along, my star, you still shone

and survived my ache.

That light you carry, buried in your chest,

Look back

Only me and your shadow

We were happy together

We were once a couple...

Until you became a stranger

I loved you

You said you loved me too

And in the end...

You broke us up without a sound

I hope you're happy without me

Liar.

Because with you is the most beautiful memory

And the ugliest wound I can't close

I miss the old you

The one who never left

So I let you go from my life

You

protect

yourself

by

keeping

apart

from

the

crushing

heartlessness

of

the world,

freed

of

the need

to

be

so

Come along till I sing the song

Where the verses are made of my tears

and tune will make u stay here

Rain rain don't just go now,

Not When I just learnt to say wow

Stay with me till the breath I fear

Let me see what I can bare

Show me what u got for me

If nothing?

Then

Become my dream

Let me live u with all my heart

Atleast until the sun breaks our path.

The time has come

to make a change.

I feel it all over my body,

through time and real space.

Like an all-over deshedding

I can’t escape,

molting into something new,

feeling like an open wound.

Sensitive to the touch,

my chest sits heavy.

I try to detach from regrets,

living in the moment

like a Minnesota sunset.

So warm I feel it

in my cold, cold bones.

The only things I’ve known,

the very thing to keep me going,

to have hope,

even when I’m unknowing.

As fight this battle,

Of the pain you cemented,

Visibly satisfied of seeing me,

Break apart for your pleasure,

But I will overcome yet another,

Moment in my life,

Refusing to succumb to my knees,

To give you the pleasure of watching me break down...

©️fallencalliope

your glib nuptial

flight a dance I learned

without rehearsing.

It’s my instinct,

fattening on crumbs.

Your song boasted so much

for so little.

I built this home myself.

I guard this door myself.

Now I brood

alone, warming

spaces where you

prostrate before that

sordid altar again

propelled by momentum,

cognitive dissonance

and the prospect

of withdrawal

opiates court her

cortisol-sodden thrall

always follows

the oroborous

because

those old myopias

are her only touchstones

get exactly what i want in the long run

it’s not the past or future with the gun

but a ‘my teeth on your lips’ conundrum

danced around a few hundred identities

wrestled with the truth fundamentally

clothes pinned to a picture of serenity

concluded life is brighter for the enemy

i barter ego for substantive amusement

heavy lids cool in alchemical movement

i’m not one to sacrifice for improvement

Write me a poem

Write me in your heart

Write me in your notes

Write me in the sky

Write me within

depths of your soul

I'll let you write me anywhere

in any way.

Yes please

As long as you

Write me somewhere

Yes please

Write me

R.A.

Stretched across a yawning maw,

You stomp my vertebrae,

My sinew's taught and yet you pluck,

At nerves as if to play,

I never should have told you yes,

Want to withdraw my help,

Still my soul can't seperate,

Curled up on the bed

No mood to wake up

or sleep

No hunger,no thirst

not thinking deep.

What will be the future?

Which is called present?

Memories of past

Just a test subject.

Mirrors are covered

No need of them

They reflect my ugliness

inside out

full of shame.

Not crying

Eyes are dried

Can't scream

Even if tried.

Panic attacks come and go

Anxiety is destroying in slomo.

No words left inside me

Your voice is my auscultation — I listen and find no murmur, no turbulence, just the steady rhythm of a home I did not know I was searching for. You are not a diagnosis. You are the quiet room after the code is called, where silence is not empty but full.

When I press my palm to your sternum, I feel no pathology — only the warmth of a heart that beats in time with mine. You are my benign constant, the one finding I do not need to treat or cure. I simply need to stay beside you, watching your ribs rise and fall in sleep, counting each breath like a promise I want to keep.