Dec 3, 2021
Poetry and Prose Collection IX
*all writing pieces originally from Instagram @mi.haloes*
“dying star”
The magical life cycle of the dying star.
It births as a nebula from the particles of the galaxy,
Pieced together with precision and hope for life.
It lives through its evolution,
Growing and changing the life of everything around it.
Within its final moments,
It lives in pure light;
A white dwarf that explodes into an array of colour in the form of a supernova.
How are our souls any different?
Pieced together with precision and a hope for life,
Our evolution,
And finally clearing our energy once we reach the final moments of our life.
Are we any different from a dying star?
We are both children of this vast system of time and space.
We are both precious and a beautiful existence in this universe.
(2021, Nov 24)
“hauntingly beautiful”
Your footsteps press upon the wood,
Creaking the floorboards within this house.
Your trail of silence line up the hallways that were once filled with our laughter.
I feel you watch over this house,
Watch over this room.
Those blazing eyes of yours,
Lighting up the darkness of this living room that was once filled with fire.
A fire that would burn into the nights beside our intertwining bodies and old English books.
Your love truly stalks this house,
You truly stalk me.
It’s almost frightening .
If only the ghost of you was not so dangerously tempting.
If only our love was not this hauntingly beautiful.
(2021, Nov 26)
“the day you left”
Every second and memory with you flowed out of my body with the wind.
Nine years passed and not one call,
But in all honesty,
It doesn’t hurt me at all.
Every breath feels lighter,
Every thought feels brighter,
Nothing about you hurts me at all.
I guess it is true about what they say,
Everything that doesn’t kill us makes us stronger.
And since the day you left,
I say confidently without regret,
Everything feels better.
(2021, Nov 30)
“I promise”
The agony of the wilting roses drifts into the air; clumsily burning at the ashes of your past.
The walls dress with plastic polaroid memories that were long meant to be forgotten, but puncture through the skull in unforgettable ways.
The future and present twirl around your eyes with hope and freedom; yet the history we shared clicks its heels against the side of your ribs, right next to your pumping heart.
This devil on your shoulder whispers the words that dwell deep within the intensity of your existence; however, the bright wings of the angels’ float through the feeling of drowning.
It shall get better,
you will become greater,
you will become stronger,
you will find yourself,
and you will become yourself once again.
I promise.
(2021, Dec 3)
