Echoes of misread winds.
In the quiet corridors of trust,
even a whisper echoes loud.
your words
meant as blessings
may fall like petals on graves unmarked,
where doubt lays
its wreath.
i hold no borrowed roses,
no shadows of another’s gaze
my heart beats
to the rhythm
of your name alone.
if...
even a whisper echoes loud.
your words
meant as blessings
may fall like petals on graves unmarked,
where doubt lays
its wreath.
i hold no borrowed roses,
no shadows of another’s gaze
my heart beats
to the rhythm
of your name alone.
if...