The moon bleeds in the gory sky, its pale light offering no ray of sunshine. The stars melt, and the candle fades, leaving no shadows to behold—neither yours nor mine.
A ghost from the past haunts me, yet it bears no image and leaves no mark. No words are spoken, and emptiness takes its place. No voice echoes—neither yours nor mine.
A shadow before me fades into the light, void of pain or agony. Death and romance dance together, their movements untouched, untold—neither yours nor mine.
I write a poem, but I have no words. There are no feelings to express, no sublime aims. The only intensity I feel is one of gore. It belongs to no one—neither yours nor mine.
We walk on the path destined for us, the strata of revelations and confines stretching ahead. As I solve the conundrum of past and future, no decision is made—neither yours nor mine.