I love writing poems
Whispers of the Horrible Past Still Cling
A photo, faded, in a frame of gold, 📸
A story that was never fully told.
...
Before the word, before the thought,
A quiet seed within was caught.
It had no name, no shape, no sound,
On barren, unmarked ground.
...
Before I learned the 🥰🥰 names of winds,
Or how a borrowed heart depends,
I met a stranger, calm and true,
The one I woke and slept unto.
...
Beneath the moon's conspiratorial gaze,
Where secrets bloom in silken night,
A kiss arrives like summer's haze—
A fleeting fire, igniting light.
...