Belladonna

Chosen You. Out of nowhere, these feelings surge, Unfamiliar, like whispers on the verge— I’ve never known love, nor how it feels to be loved, Yet here I stand, by these emotions shoved. It’s a longing I can’t quite define, A yearning to have your soul align with mine. To close the gap of hearts and miles, To trade silence for laughter, tears, and smiles. I dream of your arms, a gentle embrace, Of kisses shared, of a tender space. Of growing old with your hand in mine, A life together, a love divine. But fear, it lingers, a shadow so near, What if you fade, what if you disappear? What if all I imagine is but an illusion, A fragile hope met with confusion? You are my constant, my precious part, The tether that holds the pieces of my heart. I’d give you all of me, if only I could, But can I feel this way? Should I? I don’t understand this ache, this fire, Yet I know you’re the one I desire. To be closer, to be whole, to be true— My heart has chosen, and it’s chosen you.

Fictitious freedom I feel as though I was made for The cold nights, The quiet fights, The lingering hope of "I might." Might create something, Might achieve a dream, Might break away from it all And truly live—free. A life they call lonely I name my freedom. It may not seem lovely, But it’s my own kingdom. All I need Is the peace my soul has sought, The warmth beneath the frost That my room has always brought. That’s all I ask, Of life still yet to come: Find me whole, And let peace embrace me home.

WINTER AGAIN It is the time, The chill returns to claim its reign, A season marked by grief and pain, With icy threads that bind the veins. The frost clings heavy to the ground, A silence where no joy is found. Each breath a cloud of fleeting gray, Each step a ghost of yesterday. Beneath the sky, so cold, so wide, The world seems frozen from inside. Memories linger, sharp and clear, Like icy whispers near the ear. But winter comes, and winter goes, Through bitter winds and heavy snows. A season dark, yet not the end, For even ice will break and bend. So here we stand in winter's grip, A fragile, ever-drifting ship. And though the cold may seize the day, Spring waits  beneath this frozen sway.