Poem #7

[mo****]

In the hushed realm where shadows coil, my heart beats, a restless drum echoing through my fragmented soul. Loneliness sits heavy on my chest, an iron clasp wrought with desire— each pulse a whispered plea for a touch, a sigh, another's grace. I wander through this dim-lit corridor, the walls steeped in twilight’s embrace, where fantasy mingles with despair, and every corner holds a mirror reflecting not myself but ghosts, their laughter cracked like autumn leaves ***tering underfoot—remnants of hope. Outside, the sky d***s itself in mourning— black velvet adorned with stars too distant, as if the universe conspired to tease me. I reach into darkness with fevered hands— my fingers brush against the fabric of longing, tense threads woven tight with abandoned dreams, where caresses once danced but now lay dormant. Yet I am bound by chains of conflict; a siren's song of solitude binds me tighter— yearning flames flicker and rage within. What does it mean to crave another's heart? When mine feels like ashes swept away in storms, the taste of want lingers bitter on my tongue: fleshy sweetness wrapped in the bitterness of night. Oh! To share this monstrous yearning! To breathe as we spread shadows like wings, d***d around our bodies—lost ones seeking solace. I envision clenched hands entwined with promises— and yet each attempt unravels into emptiness. In passion’s dark corners lies only reflection: whispers turned to silence; lust transformed to ache. I am a poet lost in my own scripting: each verse a cunning riddle etched deep with sorrow— defining love as both desperate folly and cradled bliss. Desire grows wild beneath surfaces unyielding— pulsing like ancient roots searching for water; yet still I remain ensnared within this place— a romantic buried in his longing’s grave. Silken threads stretch toward an unseen face; intangible love locked behind veils of regret. As nights envelop and daylight forsakes me, I clutch at phantoms that drift just beyond reach— every spectral meeting feels both sweet and cruel; as fingertips dance across spectral shadows, silhouettes of dreams rippling across my heart. But I linger here amidst shadows' hauntings— a spirit bound to search for echoing voices: lost but not broken; free yet unchained— within darkness lies both agony and transcendence; And though this life weighs heavy on tired shoulders, still I will sing for what cannot be grasped, yearning for you in realms where moonlight dangles, and every hope teeters between despair and desire.