In these pages, you'll find poetry that lingers like the scent of smoke, capturing the allure of secrets kept close to the heart. The night becomes a lover, the alley a refuge, and each word a step into the beautiful, melancholic dance of souls year...
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She wore her bruises like a faded map, Each mark a secret, each scar a trap. Life etched its darkness in shadowed ink, But she'd never let herself sink.
The world would strike; she'd twist, not break, Through bitter lies and love's heartache. Her tears, like midnight rain, would fall, Yet she stood, defying the call.
Pero un día, se rindió al dolor, El peso demasiado, la carga un rumor. Las cicatrices, abiertas y frías, Destrozaban sus días, sus noches vacías.
She whispered farewell to the endless night, Tired of chasing a dying light. But in her silence, something stirred, A spectral strength, a final word.
All the bruises, though dark they bled, Would not bind the path she tread. In surrender's arms, she felt release, And in her ashes, a ghostly peace.
