Saknad
Bolder than red and gold, softer than the blend. Immersed in faint whispers of old heartbreak, there's something peaceful knowing my empty footsteps echo in your empty promises. Creating joy when you don't know the definition can be difficult at times. Shadows linger as the soul clings to any glimpse of solidarity. Old haunts come hand in hand as I try to slip away from reality. Silk words brush against my aural enclave, making ripples in a stagnate pond. Whirlwinds of uncertainty clash inside my cor as darkened trails await my delayed reprise. Time waits for no one as thousands are left behind. Generational chains of hollow eyes and unfulfilled yearns paint a future of despair. To go back is asking to much that much I know. Some days the saknad that weighs on my being crushes my resilience. Tears, laughter, weariness, death-so seems to be the cycle of life.
Q