Unluckybolte
Unique
- Messages
- 2,429
- Reaction score
- 1,877
- Points
- 113
The Soul
Image credits: Meta AI
Uninvited — It arrives; soft like a begining light,
Shouldering love as the river that declines to be dammed.
I call it the home, that glides in names into my skin,
and for a moment, the world is only the breath and yes.
Then there appears the struggle —
the quiet war — of wants — and waiting,
Midnights, there, the ribs hold huge storms than quite peace,
And then the tiny soul gains — weight of a clenched — fist.
Break-up defines itself a winter with no warning.
Doors shut, names turns into echoes,
And love, opened, once, widely, folds into a scar.
The soul does not take its last breath there, it fractures,
And keeps on walking on a reflective glass!
Death isn't the promise it wanted at the end
It is the hope of the soul opened alone,
setting down with the body, in the battles, and with the goodbye,
Gradually moving — and finally — unbroken.
Image credits: Meta AI
Uninvited — It arrives; soft like a begining light,
Shouldering love as the river that declines to be dammed.
I call it the home, that glides in names into my skin,
and for a moment, the world is only the breath and yes.
Then there appears the struggle —
the quiet war — of wants — and waiting,
Midnights, there, the ribs hold huge storms than quite peace,
And then the tiny soul gains — weight of a clenched — fist.
Break-up defines itself a winter with no warning.
Doors shut, names turns into echoes,
And love, opened, once, widely, folds into a scar.
The soul does not take its last breath there, it fractures,
And keeps on walking on a reflective glass!
Death isn't the promise it wanted at the end
It is the hope of the soul opened alone,
setting down with the body, in the battles, and with the goodbye,
Gradually moving — and finally — unbroken.
