“Only the Memories That Are Left”

They sit quietly in the dim corners of my mind,
unfolding like fading letters…
each word a whisper of what once was.

The days have grown distant,
their light thin as smoke,
and yet, in certain hours,
the past returns: soft, uninvited,
like a familiar scent in the wind.

I do not chase it anymore.
I simply watch as it passes through me,
reminding me that even love,
when it leaves,
still knows the way home.

“A Dialogue with the Dark”

Night stretches thin daily,
a restless thread between thought and exhaustion.
The mind refuses silence,
turning over every shadow,
every whisper of the day.

Sleep stands at the door,
teasing my body and my soul
but will not enter.
This existential threat
to my joy and my peace.
Nightly dreams slowly fade,
comfort blocks access.

My body sways, unbalanced,
a compass without direction,
a flame burning at both ends of the soul.
Clarity dissolves like mist at dawn;
words stumble, focus fades,
and morning feels like mourning.

In this sleepless vigil,
I count not hours,
but the cost
of being awake too long
with my own unrest.