In my heart, words like knives,
echoes threading through each phrase.
How can I explain, how can I tell—
only writing feeds this hunger.
Within words I carve and shape
one reflection that is you.
Everything laughs with bright delight,
I bend beneath the weight of words.
In your spell I burn in silence,
then suddenly see—you are not here!
Wide-eyed and empty, I remain,
memory's inner manuscript,
waiting—only for you.
The Inner Script of Memory
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