Silence and wistful glances stolen
Interlaced fingers loosen,
Let go

Fall apart

In the shadow of half-remembered whispers, the fading scent of vanilla musk and the brush of velvet; there are too many regrets, mirrored within endless mirrors, screaming out from within

Lost within the quickly-fading haze of your eyes,
the fragments of a lullaby,
of heat and a lingering breath
piece together a patchwork delusion
of memories, lies and far-off could-have-beens

(But patchworks are never authentic, never the same – it is in the little things that you realise: in the unfamiliar clockwise swirl, the scent of latte – and they fail to fill the void within.)

All constructive criticism is appreciated, particularly since this was written at one in the morning.

- isilyasong