The sky is ink, and bleeds its hue

Across the hills in shades of blue.

It cloaks the trees in mourning lace,

And smears the stars on Heaven’s face.

The wind becomes a painter’s sigh,

Brushing the world with something shy.

It stirs the leaves like whispered sin,

And taps on glass to be let in.

The manor breathes a deeper gloom,

It’s heart a cold, forgotten room.

The portraits blink with shadowed ...

I swallowed truth like bitter wine,

It burnt my throat, but tasted fine.

Each lie-a note I dared to hum,

A velvet tune that left me numb.

My voice was veiled in sugar lace,

But trembled in the silent space.

The guilt grew roots behind my eyes,

A quiet storm I can’t disguise.

Your name-once soft as cello strings-

Now clangs like bells that shame me, rings.

I meant to mean, but played pretend,

And...