A truth that lingers, unseen, unheard, a language only shadows know, each syllable steeped in the gravity of absence, the silence thick with yearning.
The light that touches it is swallowed whole, an eclipse of perception, leaving no trace, no glimmer of dawn, only the deepening grey, the endless night within, a canvas stretched taut over voids unfilled the heart beats, a metronome of longing in a room painted.
With absence, each pulse a question that echoes back from the walls, the weight of unuttered prayers hanging in the air, like smoke from a spent candle, fading, but never quite gone
In that heavy silence, the darkness deepens, a reflection on the glass of what we dare not see, a mirror to the self that dances in the half-light, searching for meaning in the shadows’ embrace, the paradox of wanting what cannot be held, yet clings to the marrow, the ache of existence woven into the fabric of night.
And so, we linger here, in this tender desolation, where shadows bloom and the soul, bruised and silent, finds its quiet, its solace, in the unfathomable depths of what remains unspoken.
I enjoyed the absence of light in this write. How for some it’s befitting.
You expressed that feeling throughout this piece.
Nice work.
Thank you, Adelphina.
Tough pain can do this, mental disorderes can do this… All I can feel is someone who is trapped inside their mind, there is nothing and no one only them and their mind. You did great with expressing and delivering the emptyness and numbness. I very much like the title, it’s perfect.
I appreciate that. I like to dabble in words and see where they lead me.