Amidst the Silent Fractures

Amidst the Silent Fractures By A Dena Mulyana I wove sorrow into a shroud, soft as twilight, yet heavy with unsaid goodbyes. I walked the corridors of memory where echoes wear your voice— gentle, but sharp enough to draw blood from a heart that refused to forget. Is longing always this cruel? Like a candle burning in a storm, it flickers with hope, only to be smothered by the winds of truth. Each silence between us wrote verses on the walls of my chest. Each breath, a line carved in aching. If you find this poem one day, know this— I never stopped waiting, not like a fool, but like the sky: vast, unmoving, forever open.