I.
They danced in spring, when the rain was still gentle
And every word was gold they hadn’t spent
They spoke of futures, rarely of the rent,
Building a world where light reached the temple.
They followed each other, oh honeymoon bliss
A home of laughter—family was meant.
They swore that love would never leave a dent
In their design, never let things go amiss.
But things will crack when pressure finds a seam,
When life demands a debt they can’t allow.
The dream they hoarded turns into a scream,
The heavy days are caving in right now.
They built it in haste, neglected the beam,
And look upon the wreckage of their vow.
II.
Forgive me, I’ve given up everything
I am sorry. I am less than a man,
bought our goddamn gold on a five-year plan,
swiping the plastic with a shaking hand
Forgive me. I promised you a home
My arms would hold the roof, my legs would hold the floor!
But the landlord is kicking through the fucking door.
And I’ve failed, failed at being a world’s whore.
I love you, and I broke the sacred vow.
I let the ceiling cave. Our home—
a pretty grave.
III.
Is anyone awake?
I am rotting in the kitchen while the green paint flakes!
I wore the white dress, I played the quiet part—
fed a mouse lie to my romantic heart!
They told me a modern princess balances both—
the plastic tiara and the corporate oath.
Ten hours at a desk, two hours in the crawl,
I come home to a shadow staring at the wall.
Our beautiful baby—is learning how to pray
To a silent ledger, to a house that smells of rust!
We brought a soul into this magic kingdom
just to watch it turn to dust!
We were told we could have it all,
But I am screaming at the mirror,
and the mirror is an exhausted me.
IV.
The silver ring splits on the pure vow.
Fifty percent of kingdoms fall.
A flip parting our all.
Pacing inside the crypt,
Chasing a phantom
Through the crackling.
The pact breaks—
cruel and
cold.
V.
The ring’s a circle. The circle’s a zero.
It seals our love in an O
A promise one of pair lives to regret
Ruined not by malice, poison, or rage
Media wrote the script, and we act on the stage
Memorized the lines, we learned every page,
The spotlight’s blinding, the audience’s cold,
And no one remembers the story we told.
Only the ring remembers in fractures
One half of a whole
zero
We were here—
we were sold.
My poems:
This made me want to cry.
I love your medieval personality! Great work mate! Have a beautiful day!