At 11:11, the clock held its breath and my heart reached for you in silence.
I miss you, softly, endlessly. I’ll keep you as my favorite incomplete wish, the kind that hurts beautifully.
#RandomThoughts#Poetry
My heart aches for you—then chooses love. No matter what the hour brings, it waits.
Is this madness in my chest, or joy? If you don’t see me, it’s your eyes that miss.
Yes—this is my madness, and it loves.
#Poetry#RandomThoughts
Well, on Sunday we'll be together, 5, 6 hours, too little for talking, enough to be silent in, to hold-hands, to look-into-each-other’s-eyes.
Franz Kafka, 1921.
Nothing is harder than dreams’ breath,leaving.
The scent of “soon” turns to smoke.
Dreams fade—then the room keeps it.
Our soul inhales residue, not hope.
It lingers: the perfume of almost.
Evaporation is a kind of forgetting
& forgetting smells like loss.
#RandomThoughts#Poetry