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The dusty jacket, tattered, did belie Within held pearls bespeaking truth To bring within perfect symmetry The recipe I needed in my youth So distracted I walked through the falling library Of shelves begging with every groan To collect pages torn falling unwary Those voices would fade to the unknown About flew ravens taunting with...

In silence, words disappear, Unspoken—louder than any sound. A heart longs to be understood, But the world is too vast, too harsh. A voice is lost in the noise— Not because it isn’t there, But because it’s afraid to be heard. A soul bears the weight of mistakes, Carrying the heaviness of regret, Trying to mend what was broken. And then—I see...

I remember your perfume and how its fragrance and your essence made me giddy, like fine champagne from a crystal flute, sparkling, how they made me act the fool and not care as long as I could see you, touch you, inhale you, feel you open yourself to me, but time passed, the chill crept in, and you and my love are shells of themselves since you...

They gnaw at the edges of me, little sharp-toothed things with hollow eyes, crawling from the cracks in my skull to lap at the marrow of my thoughts. I used to fight them. I used to starve them. But hunger makes them cruel. So now I lay the table. Silver plates of regret, goblets brimming with old wounds, a banquet of memories too raw...

**The Heart of a Tempest** A storm within, a raging, endless sea, Where waves of anger crash eternally. A heart of stone, a soul of iron cast, Forever bound to this tempest, forever fast. The pain, a viper, gnawing at his core, Leaving wounds that fester, evermore. Rage, a wildfire, burning fierce and bright, Consuming reason, plunging him in...

In shadows cast by stone and fear, I find myself, the path unclear. A dilemma looms, a heavy weight, Where do I turn? What lies in fate? Shall I trust the echoes of my mind, The wisdom gathered, the truths I find? Or delve within, where silence dwells, Into the chambers, where my spirit swells? With every breath, a whisper calls, Inward...

I keep a spine that bends toward fairness, and every time I straighten it, the doorway shrinks. "your disrespect borders apathy" dictations of trouble scribbled into me. In truth, I notice the weight placed on backs already tired, the hours that leak past daylight, the pay that never learns to grow. So I’m released again— another quiet box for...