Mine in the dark

"Sometimes, the heart holds on in silence—tied to old habits, haunted by what could never be. cry swallowed by shadows, a confession born from obsession and self-betrayal. This is not a love poem. It’s the echo of wanting what was never mine to hold" The past still hums beneath my skin, an ache, a whisper, soft as sin. The urge returns— to speak his name and stake my claim without a shame. But oh, I weave deceit with every breath I dare repeat. It’s not the world I seek to fool— it’s me, the liar, the longing fool. And now, these thoughts, they bloom and burn: What if I claimed him in return? As if my heart could rewrite fate, as if desire could recreate the right to love, the right to stay— when I threw that all away. I know— don’t I always know? He shines beyond what I could show. Cazzo... Still, I dream him mine in secret rhyme. And so, I wear the silence well, a ghost who lingers in his spell. No kiss, no word, no sacred sign— just old habits and the lie that he was ever mine.