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Dust gathers where laughter used to bloom,
a broken doll’s eye stares at the ceiling —
silent witness to the years that rotted through
the once-bright wallpaper of dreams.
The rocking horse moves on its own,
a creak echoing down hollow corridors,
while shadows trace the outlines of children
who never quite grew old.
Memory is a cruel clock,
its pendulum dripping with rust and lullabies.
I press my ear to the crystal of my past —
all I hear is the shatter.
by Onnaya
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Robyn
What a coincidence that I opened SpaceHey almost just when you posted this! This is really beautiful. I can't get enough of the last two lines, they sound so good.
What a strange kind of fate then, that you opened SpaceHey just as the words surfaced. Almost as if they were waiting for you. 🕯️ I’m glad the last lines spoke to you — they felt like they came from somewhere else entirely, almost whispered through the cracks.
by Onnaya; ; Report