
"I blamed the correspondence of the twirling, mourned blood."
A poetic monologue unraveling the aftermath of emotional war-where memory is fractured, truths are venom-laced, and even the moon feels too far to touch.
This is not a love poem.
This is a reckoning.
As the speaker grapples with deception, mythology, and the remnants of a relationship that once felt divine, the past returns in waves-sweet, eerie, devastating.
🌌 What do we do when the person we trusted most becomes the ghost haunting our own reflection?
For readers who crave:
Emotionally raw lyricism
Dreamlike imagery & metaphoric depth
Themes of betrayal, myth, femininity, and self-reclamation
You are invited into the ruins. Read slowly-some truths only bloom in the dark.Todos os Direitos Reservados1 capítulo