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༻᪥The Hour of the Heart ᪥༺
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The hands of the clock froze at six,
as if time had conspired to hold him hostage.
The dawn spilled across the earth like a secret,
a quiet betrayal of the night,
and still, his heart churned with its quiet storm.

He woke before the sun,
its light too soft to scatter the weight in his chest.
Today, the world carried a single, unbearable truth:
нє ℓονє∂ нєя .
It was the kind of love that filled his veins,
that made his breath heavy with unspoken verses.
It was the kind of love that terrified him.

He sat at the edge of his bed,
the floor beneath him cold as doubt.
He saw her face in every thought,
heard her laughter in the silence.
ᴡʜᴀᴛ ɪғ sʜᴇ ᴅɪᴅɴ'ᴛ ғᴇᴇʟ ɪᴛ?
ᴡʜᴀᴛ ɪғ ʜɪs ᴄᴏɴғᴇssɪᴏɴ ᴅɪssᴏʟᴠᴇᴅ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴍɪsᴛ ᴜɴᴅᴇʀ ᴛʜᴇ sᴜɴ?
Yet the alternative—this eternal silence—
was a prison he could no longer endure.
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The morning wore on, golden and cruel.
The streets buzzed with lives oblivious to his,
and he envied their simplicity.
His reflection in shop windows mocked him—
“ℓοοκ ,α man made of ℓονє and trembling”.

By midday, the sun towered above him,
its heat relentless, its light unkind.
He wandered to a river, its current steady,
its voice reminding him of her—
how her...