That warmth in your laugh
It doesn’t touch me
It undoes me —
like fire undoes wax
Those grudges
I buried them in lives long left behind,
in memories traded and forgotten —
where love was a transaction,
and silences could be rented by the hour
In the ocean you carry
in those bottomless eyes,
I keep drowning —
blind to my own weight
Every time I reach for breath,
I stitch together a boat out of words —
but you never read them
Because words are for the wounded
For those who find silence
a little too loud
Love...
Love is a cruel thing, darling —
It walks in, wearing politeness
like perfume on betrayal.
It smiles soft,
sells lies loud,
moves in gently,
then feeds on you
like nostalgia eats photographs —
leaving nothing
but fingerprints on bones
I just want this dopamine crash
to sit still with me.
For this heart to stop skipping
like a tone-deaf pianist
playing jazz
at the equator of an orchestra
I want refuge —
in the fading warmth of your breath,
like a worn-out traveller
who’s stopped asking for directions
because even wrong turns
feel like home now.
I don’t want to be found
I just want
to disappear gently somewhere
where words aren’t obligations,
where silence is still affordable
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