Anie
@anie
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860 Followers
Fading Echoes
A voice once bright, now tangled in dusk,
spun through the hands of a clockless sky.
The air remembers what I cannot,
a whisper dissolving in rain.
Light bends, but never touches—
a phantom glow on water’s skin.
The river moves without a name,
pulling shadows from their silence.
I gather the dust of forgotten things,
a threadbare hush, a hollow breath.
Time sings with an open wound,
its melody dripping through the cracks.
Still, the world turns,
spilling echoes into the void.
And I, a flicker, a faltering note,
unravel into nothing.
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Fractured Horizon
Sky—unstitched, unspoken—
a riddle unraveled in shards of fire,
falling upward, downward, nowhere,
reflections bleeding into the edges of time.
Hands unseen move silence like tides,
placing voids where answers should be,
each piece, a whisper, almost fitting,
almost whole, almost real.
Dawn hums in broken echoes,
light bending through missing shapes,
as if the sky itself forgot
what it was meant to be.
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Fragments of Us
A flicker, a hush—
not the wind, but the space it forgets.
Not the light, but the way it bends
around the shape of missing things.
You, a hand I never held,
but still, my palm remembers.
A thread unraveling backward,
sewn into the breath of yesterday.
I, the color of echoes,
a ripple in the river of time.
Not the water, but the shimmer,
not the sound, but the hush between.
We exist in the almost,
a constellation never drawn,
a melody before the note,
a love that is and never was.
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Unchained Refrain
Fingers dissolve into midnight’s marrow,
threading echoes through liquid sky—
green veins hum, pulsing,
a tether, a fracture, a silent refrain.
Barrels curl like sleeping ghosts,
spilled time pooling in neon hush,
the earth drinks deep,
metallic lullabies humming below.
Moonlight bends, melts,
a coin flipping through eternity,
caught between grasp and surrender,
unfurling, unraveling, unknown.
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Emberborn, Unbound
She steps—
not forward, not back,
but through.
Time unwinds in ribbons of dusk,
the sky, a mouth half-open in hunger,
swallowing moons like forgotten names.
Wings bloom—
not feather, not flame,
but something between.
A beast sleeps in her spine,
its breath curling through each hollow bone.
She hums a song that was never written,
and the wind listens,
bending, breaking, becoming.
Another lingers—
a flicker, a fracture,
an echo still learning its shape.
Are they two?
Or only one dream, unfolding?
Below, spires melt into mist,
longing without language.
Above, stars fracture,
scattering like seeds of fire.
And she—
emberborn, unbound—
does not fall.
She simply is.
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