u/edeaflores

What false heaven’s key are you hiding in your pocket?

Did you tie your hope to the shadows that vanish at sunrise,

Or to that silent scream that sanctifies the night?

Do not look up; the sky is far too crowded now,

Filled with artificial satellites and half-finished prayers.

Do not look down; the earth only recognizes the body;

There is neither a river nor a memory there

To wash the rust from your soul.

We are lunatics searching for something sacred

Among heaps of iron.

That light you see when your eyes are closed

May only be the final convulsion of your mind.

Brother, walk beside me, but do not follow my footsteps;

Because the place I arrived at

Is the complete opposite of where I began.

Take me beyond definitions,

Leave me in that nameless void

Beyond flesh and bone.

When the questions end,

And the answers lose all meaning;

Reach out your hand

Into that pure darkness that remains.

Tell me, within this game you have built,

Do you have the courage

To tear down the idols you created yourself?

🍷

-

-

I am open to feedback and criticism.

It is the mind, after all; it cuts deeper than the sharpest blade,

From the flow of thoughts, from that silent ache...

We praise the divine with our tongues, but

That void within... How gluttonous it is!

That void does not fill, instead, it seals;

Driving me toward a heavier emptiness,

Toward a more wordless cry.

And there, the cold touch has arrived.

That touch, both venom and cure.

I was expecting its coming, there was no escape;

It flourished within the folds of my sleep.

Even though I tried to choke it with words,

It found new life in every letter of mine.

It breathes inside me!

My God, this being will recreate me.

🍷

the clock had long since struck twelve

and the waters withdrew from the shores of the soul.

too tired to believe in a miracle,

too incomplete for this city.

there is no road left

to that stranger i once was,

the maps have been erased.

the dust i gathered in my palms

is not enough to become something new,

my soil is barren, my water poisoned.

that face i see in the mirror every morning

is not merely a sin left over from the night;

every moment i wake

is proof that i have died a little more.

there is no beginning on the horizon

nor a door that leads me back to myself.

my pieces no longer come together,

i am a reflection of a shattered mirror,

hanging in the void.

🍷

-

-

-

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/xSwPB0Q9Tr

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/d789EW4atE

The road ahead doesn’t stretch like a line,

but like a void.

The fog has swallowed the breath of the trees.

My footsteps don’t echo on asphalt,

but somewhere within the dusty corridors of my mind.

I don’t know where I’m going,

maybe I’m only drifting farther away from myself.

The trees stand along the roadside like shadows,

as if they would scatter if I touched them,

or remain silent if I asked them anything.

The sun is not hope here,

only a fading memory dissolving into the gray.

You know those black curtains I once stitched over the windows?

Now they’ve spread across the whole world, blocking my way.

My fingers are not on the steering wheel,

but buried in the coldness of the past.

This road never ends, because its end always leads back to me.

The pale darkness around me does not exist to make me forget,

it exists because I chose to lose myself within this misted silence.

I wait for my own echo to return through the fog,

but only silence comes back,

staring into my eyes

as if it never intends to leave.

🍷

-

-

-

If it stirred something in you, you can share it.

-

-

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/woriCR8vGQ

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/tdD9JrrJdg

This is a graveyard of secrets. A cold, blue place where everyone locks their inner storms away. The weight of silence makes the air so thick that breathing is a labor. To expose feelings? Absurd. It’s merely an unnecessary risk, an invitation to weakness. I am safe in this rigid, accepted solitude.

But sometimes, an anomaly appears in the gloomy atmosphere. An intense, shapeless glow whose origin is unclear. That is the confession itself. The pure energy of the courage to express. It shines so fiercely, it makes me question everything I’ve grown accustomed to seeing in this darkness.

That glow whispers that solitude is a lie. That glow is proof that letting go of the burden is possible. I have to admit, that light is far more potent, far more infectious than the familiar pitch-black. To look toward it is to make an irreversible choice.

Voices. That disgusting noise inside my skull that never falls silent. Thousands of invisible mouths gnawing at my soul; as if they are tearing pieces of my flesh away slowly, savoring every bite. My hands are shaking, I am no longer in control. The shadows collapse over me like a heavy, filthy mist dripping from the ceiling, tightening every breath a little more.

I want to run away, but where? What door would still open at this hour? Even the stone walls push me back with an icy hatred; the concrete is disgusted by me, every surface I touch spits me back out. The city vomits me onto its streets like an unwanted excess. No place opens its arms to me, no threshold becomes a home. Even stone rejects my existence.

This pitch-black, abandoned pain growing inside me… no one cares. It does not echo, not even faintly, in anyone’s heart. They look at me and see only emptiness; they pass through me as though brushing against a shadow. Time has frozen; like a rusted wire wrapped around my throat, every second cuts a little deeper.

The darkness is no longer outside of me, but the murky water flowing through my veins. Everything is fading, everything is disappearing one by one. And I… in the middle of this deaf, voiceless, absolute loneliness, toward my own silent destruction… I am sinking. Deeper. Further into the bottom.

🍷

-

-

-

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/FY8rOzno6c

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/1X2MCo7y1z

Sometimes the only thing I think about is the beauty of the reflection of a rainbow's colors after the rain. Can a person live for just that?

I said my inside and outside were one,

My voice echoed through the walls of the empty room.

It did not believe me,

It only stared with that cold metallic glint in its eyes.

It stayed silent,

Its fingers were like ice;

It peeled my skin away in a single motion,

Left my soul completely bare in the open.

It took that pale skin and hung it on a rusted hanger,

I watched it sway, watching myself from afar.

I said I’m cold,

The clash of my bones sounded like a lament.

I’m cold,

Freezing in the frost of my own absence.

It did not hear me,

Or perhaps it did not want to.

Slowly, it peeled away its own skin,

And stitched it onto me like a heavy, blood-soaked fabric.

With every puncture of the needle, a piece of my soul tore away,

My flesh merged with its flesh,

I became trapped inside a foreign ache.

“My outside is whole with your inside now,” it said,

With that suffocating satisfaction in its voice.

I believed it,

There was no other choice in this darkness.

Now, inside this patched shadow,

I breathe with its skin,

I warm myself with its coldness.

My inside and outside are no longer one,

I am only a memory forgotten on that hanger.

🍷

-

-

-

If something inside you moved while reading this, tell me about it.

-

-

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/WHm0kEF172

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/YtyHDYUGkz

The pain was here

In the darkest layer of my ribs

It wasn’t moving

It was afraid of its own voice

It thought the light would kill it

It wouldn’t come out

It wouldn’t come out

It had nothing to do with me

It was only afraid

It was hiding inside me so it wouldn’t get hurt

I locked the doors from the inside

I closed my eyes

It hides behind my veins so I won’t see its face

I don’t want it to leave

It doesn’t leave

It uses me as armor

It uses me as a grave

I stand where I am

It trembles inside me

I can feel it

It’s crying

🍷

-

-

-

If it resonates with you, I’d like to hear your interpretation.

-

-

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/97b3SQ4ohK

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/xFZtnFeJ9f

I am outside of myself, watching myself. I am the sleep of my own self. I don’t feel anything to its full extent. It’s as if I’m living someone else's life; everything feels foreign and distant to me.

I have no connection to anything. My selfhood is like a gathering of strangers, each playing a different tune. I am merely a spectator of my own emotions, a tourist passing through my own soul.

Sometimes I watch myself from such a distance that I find it hard to believe my actions belong to me. It’s as if I’m in a play; I speak the lines I’ve memorized, but the stage lights blind my eyes, and I don’t actually know who I am performing for. Everything is a fog, everything is a dream within another dream. Even when I wake up, I continue to remain within my sleep.

Darkness did not embrace me like an abyss,

but like the arms of an old friend.

It was too late to run anyway—

and who truly wanted to leave?

I left the deceitful shimmer of light at the doorway,

and when I closed my eyes,

the world became nothing but silence.

The borders of my existence slowly dissolved within the room,

the objects forgot me,

and so did I forget the stranger in the mirror.

As the heavy, hazy texture of black touched my skin,

the endless noise inside my soul faded,

leaving behind a profound stillness.

I no longer had boundaries;

I was only an endless void.

I curled into the very center of silence,

wearing the indescribable lightness of being invisible.

There was no waiting left in me,

nor any fear.

Inside the womb of darkness,

I was like a dream not yet born.

No one could see me,

yet for the first time, I felt whole.

Because once darkness filled me completely,

no light outside could ever take my shadow away from me again.

🍷

-

-

If it resonates with you, I’d like to hear your interpretation.

-

-

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/WN9lTAM9IV

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/sBxblihhYq

A short piece about inner silence, detachment, and the feeling of becoming invisible inside your own existence.

-

-

My echo stayed hanging on the wall,

No one touched that sound.

I talked to the shadow gathering in the corner of the room,

It didn’t answer,

It only expanded,

stretching its cold all the way to my toes.

I stitched the windows with black curtains,

not so the outside world would forget me,

but because I had already erased the world.

My fingers feel like strangers on my own skin,

as if this ribcage is not mine—

an old mansion where no one has ever lived.

Dust-covered memories whisper in the corridors,

I count my footsteps at night,

because no one else counts this rhythm anymore.

There are two glasses on the table,

one empty,

the other dusty as if untouched for a thousand years.

I hold onto my own shadow,

my bones knocking against each other,

my voice echoing in the void and returning to me again.

I stopped waiting for sunrise,

because darkness

stares into my eyes like it will never leave.

I am like a ghost sitting on a leather chair,

my existence trapped in the ticking of the clock;

if it stops,

I will be as if I never existed at all.

🍷

(I would appreciate any interpretation or feedback.)

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/PfiCiQhK58

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/1dY0GTb4Uc