Poems

Shadows on My Skin In the mirror, my gaze drifts away,can’t bear the sight where dark memories lay.Lights off, water falls, hidden in steam,where touch is a ghost, and safety a dream. A hug from behind, a prison of arms,each well-meant touch triggers silent alarms.In my mind’s harsh grasp, I plot an escape,skin shedding like […]

Shadows on the Ceiling In the quiet of a dark room, where whispers stick to walls,I lie beneath the ceiling, where the shadow of my past falls.Every bump and every texture, a story in relief,takes me back to that night, the origin of grief. Up there, he’s grinning, in the grooves above so stark,while I’m

Shadows of Doubt In the silence of our room, I hold your phone, a sacred tomb,I scroll through secrets, seeking signs,imagining the lies between the lines.Every time you’re minutes late,my mind conjures up a traitor’s fate. I say I trust you, but I’m waging war,with phantoms from a lover’s lore.I see his shadow when I

Shadows of the Fracture In the corridors of my mind, I roam passages so thin,rage burns through the plaster, a firestorm within.My identity splits, shatters on silent cries,each reflection a stranger, truth laced with lies. Hallucinations hold court in the crumbling halls,whispers turn to shouts behind the memory’s walls.Obsessions twist the knobs of every locked

Shadows of Doubt (2) In the quiet corners of my tortured mind,I see her laughing, leaving me behind.His voice, a whisper where trust used to sleep,in shadows cast, I’ve fallen too deep.Scouring messages, hunting for signs,in timestamps and texts, reading between the lines. Reflections caught in the glow of her phone,searching for faces, always feeling

Shadows of Doubt (3) Every whisper’s a secret, every glance is a tale,in the silence between us, my trust starts to fail.I decode every message, seek truths that might lie,in the echoes of laughter, in the way they say goodbye. I’ve searched through the shadows on their skin in the dark,hunting scents of betrayal, every

Shades of Illness Wrapped in the white of sterile halls, I craft my tales of pain,inventing maladies, a masquerade to make me feel sane.Every symptom a brushstroke in a portrait of distress,craving glances of concern, my truth I must confess. I don’t chase death, but relevance, in this cold, unseeing crowd,in the echo of my

Shadows in the Veil In the flicker of the candle, where the shadows play,lies the borderland between the night and day.Twisted fantasies like vines, around my mind they stay,obsession’s whispers in the dark, they never sway. Every touch is fire, every glance a blade,sensory overload, in overtones they’re laid.Shame’s a cloak I wear in the

Scent of Yesterday The ghost of his touch lingers in the air,a scent of smoke that spirals from despair.Each whiff of tobacco, a leap through time,back to that night, that moment–a crime.The cologne that mixed with the cigarette haze,now a haunting that sets my thoughts ablaze.Not just a memory, but a gut-deep feel,every aroma makes

Saint Chlorine and the Bathtub Saints They say the water forgives, but they never asked it first,it smells like bleach and quiet things, like God in reverse.Saint Chlorine waits by the drain with her fingers cold and pale,she lights a candle from your memory, then blesses you with fail. They call it therapy, call it