In the quiet corners where shadows reside,
A porcelain heart, cracked but still aglow,
Whispers tales of love that lived and died,
Amongst the dust, it waits, a gem below.
Once cradled in hands with laughter bright,
Clasped in fervor beneath the waltzing moon,
Now it finds solace in dim, fading light,
A nostalgia wrapped in the softest tune.
Forgotten, yes, but the soul still dances,
In echoes of a time when it sparked delight.
Its chipping glaze tells of fleeting glances,
Romantic reveries that shine through the night.
Oh, to be a vessel of passions lost,
To witness the pulse of a thousand dreams,
A silent observer, without counting the cost,
That flickers in heartbeats and tangled seams.
Faded, yet vibrant, each mark a story,
The brush of a lover’s fingertips trace,
Cracks like rivers, they tell of their glory,
The laughter, the whisper, the warm embrace.
Feel the crackle of history’s sighs,
As petals of memory drift in the air,
Each tick of the clock in the world’s goodbyes,
Reclaims the shattered with meticulous care.
Life spins round, the seasons still weave,
A tapestry bright amidst forgetful night—
The smallest of objects, yet daring to believe,
Holds worlds in its silence, a flickering light.
So here I stand, in the realm of the lost,
A testament to love, however small,
For in every piece, there lies a cost—
Not forgotten, but cherished, I’m still standing tall.
In the hearts of the dreamers, the artists, the wise,
A forgotten object becomes the muse’s song,
Awake in the moonlight, beneath starlit skies,
Where love is eternal, and I still belong.g
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