The sore of aloneness intensified,
melting en masse...

It is utterly futile
to argue with yourself...

The bouquet of flowers
I offered you...

The guardhouse of loneliness—
where the truth of oneself unfolds...

Left the cage ajar
to free her but she returned...

Wood searches for light—
whether in the sky...

Only fresh air is beloved.
She loves...

We speak in wavelengths
only time can translate...

The sun is tick,
the moon is tack...

The past is meaningless
unless...

Inhale,
life whispers...

Soft water carves stone,
even the unyielding bends...