h.harouche

​I became a grave,

without a headstone to bear a name,

without a body to mourn.

​A swing suspended in your hands,

caught between the sky of your love

and the earth of your hatred.

An in and out, of inhaling hopes and

unleashing cries.

​But who cares about a marionette?

They see only the innocence

that the show conveys.

​But the truth is revealed

only to those like me,

who believed the promise:

In my hands, you are the soul.

And my journey continues through inspiring creative milestones, thank you all so much for 25,000 likes.

for her absence still rains down meteors

upon his heart,

​while she lives in heavy silence,

concealing the agony of her parting

within a black hole.

​And between two parallel cosmos,

their once-unified nebula soul

split into an eclipse of cause and effect,

creating a celestial Syzygy

reuniting only when anger and regret

ignite into a resounding kiss.

Their explosion.

I'm the painting that you have

hung on a wall, and in front

of a window without any curtains

where all that is left from me

are fading shadows of

used to be colored colors

And I, in their silent departure,

Felt like a man with a broken heart.

Oh! If only they knew how much

Their presence was a delight.

But for their return, I will wait—

Like a little kid for a Christmas gift.

Her words

were as heavy as 

a cascading waterfall

of rocks,

and this time, 

my defenses 

were 

completely 

overwhelmed,

so I chose to 

be led 

along her winding, 

branching 

paths 

by an autopilot mode,

for I simply want to 

drown under her weight

steering clear 

of the pain.

You are my anchor.

At the bottom of her lake, 

his skeleton lies among 

weaving weeds 

just as fish slip 

between his ribs. 

He was once alive, 

seemingly happy 

in her arms. 

But her embrace was 

a disguise. 

A fox in sheep’s 

clothing.

Now, he has become 

the forgotten chest, 

mysteriously sealed, 

curiously unwanted.

Yet the moonlight knitting 

his miserable murmurs 

from the depths of the waters, 

in the folds of its dark nights, 

to immortalize his myth 

for those whose eyes 

wish to be blinded 

by her fairy guise.

But when she reveals herself 

through her biting lies, 

walking in the forest 

and swimming in 

the shimmering lake 

is only poisoned honey 

for the next man.

the red flames rage around you

tempting me to leap toward you

so I unleash myself

to be consumed by your fire

and with your ecstatic savagery

burn my skin, take my bones

dry them, crush them

I want to become

the incense of your lust

so that you may inhale me in

with every thirsty breath of you 

you promised me, and I

believed you.

you said:

when the fog lifts,

there will be no more

shadows.

and the red flags i'm seeing are

nothing but a desert mirage.

Oh, how I regret

allowing myself 

to be swept away by your

demonic love 

on a path of artificial sparks

for when that fog lifted,

I found my heart being

devoured by the fangs of your

wicked curses

like the remains of prey

left

for the hungry vultures.

but alas, all I've seen, this loop

of one hard moment; your goodbye drop.

we will meet

and then

I will reveal

all my colors

to you.

I will be

your canvas,

yours alone.

so, if possible,

and until then,

try not to boast,

for I am priceless.