Creator

The clock ticks louder in the emptiness,each second a reminder of what we lack,the warmth of a touch,

low falling sun, ruby horizon, a blood-red bruiseas twilight twirls its limbs around my throat,nipping out the last breath of hope.lost in a labyrinth of thoughts that twist like knives.

in this drowning day,there is a subtle energy,a pulse beneath the surface.the moving pixels metamorphs,

in gardens amidst the blooming roseswith their enchanting fragranceand radiant appearance near lurks a shadow vast,a whispere of memories from past,suddenly seems to appear.

a static scene,  life pause of a tableau vivant  that breathes in silence.

the corners of my mind untouched by your shadows  croons of lingering hope from morning,  i float like a feather,  usually heavy with sighs, drowning in memories always persisting.

the moment frozen in time that stands still, your laughter radiant, fill up the soft space, a memory that lingers, sweet melody tangled in the warmth of glowing candles. with each beat of heart,

the sun scatters gold across sky, heating the earth with a fierce pyre, while the squirrel prance around, witness of a playful dance, like a flicker of fur and grace, through the branches.

can you knock me out with a blunt rod to my head?  i said i love you baby.  don't look away,

there's something about desperation  that i know better,  like the back of my hand  i want to hold your hand,  hold you in my hand  and never let you go like a captured frame.  my body could weight  l...