#blpoetry

[cerav2]

It’s funny… how life never asks what you really want,

it just keeps moving… and expects you to keep up.

Somewhere in between… you start losing track—

of what you feel, what you hide, what you’re supposed to be.

And then suddenly… there’s someone,

not fixing anything, not asking anything… just there.

And for a moment, everything slows down—

like the noise inside finally finds a pause.

Nothing changes, not really…

but somehow, it doesn’t feel as heavy anymore.

[ahysopae]

Farewell! if ever fondest prayer For other’s weal availed on high, Mine will not all be lost in air, But waft thy name beyond the sky. ‘Twere vain to speak, to weep, to sigh: Oh! more than tears of blood can tell, When wrung from guilt’s expiring eye, Are in that word – Farewell! – Farewell!

These lips are mute, these eyes are dry; But in my breast and in my brain, Awake the pangs that pass not by, The thought that ne’er shall sleep again. My soul nor deigns nor dares complain, Though grief and passion there rebel; I only know we loved in vain – I only feel – Farewell! – Farewell!

Farewell! if ever fondest prayer - Lord Byron

[cerav2]

"I watched him treat my wounds like they were a fragile secret. His hands were shaking, not from fear, but from a grief I didn't know he possessed. I’ve spent so long being a ghost in my own body, wandering through rooms that never felt like mine. But the way he looks at me... it’s the first time I haven’t wanted to disappear. I used to think a home was a destination, a place you reach after the war is over. But looking at him, I realize home is just a person who refuses to leave when the storm gets loud. He gave me a roof made of concern, and walls made of the one thing I never thought I’d find: belonging." ✨🥀

[cerav2]

Look me in the eyes and tell me you didn’t see what just happened on that screen.

I am literally sitting here screaming because Barth looked like his entire world depended on that one inch of space.

He didn't even care about getting a kiss; he just needed to lose himself in Tanrak’s presence.

That wasn't a romantic gesture—that was a desperate, primal urge to just breathe him in.

And then Tanrak does that tiny, agonizing recoil that felt like a literal slap to the face.

How can two human beings create that much suffocating tension without saying a single word?

It is genuinely painful to watch someone look that starved for affection while the other acts like an iceberg.

I am clutching my blanket so hard my knuckles are white, completely wrecked by the sheer angst of it.

They are playing a dangerous game with our emotions, and frankly, I am not surviving this episode.

You could actually feel the temperature drop the exact millisecond Barth realized he had to pull back.

This isn't a normal slow burn anymore; this is a highly calculated form of psychological torture.

I refuse to believe that anyone can look at someone with that much raw yearning and just walk away.

My brain has officially melted, and I am supposed to just go to sleep after witnessing that?

They are going to be the absolute death of the entire fandom if they keep stretching this out.

Seriously, someone give them a reality check because this unspoken distance is tearing my soul apart.

[cerav2]

My Poetry:

"Why do they talk of skin as if it’s the only destination?

I see them chasing shadows,

building monuments to a hunger that never settles,

calling it 'desire' because they are too afraid of the quiet.

But look at this—

the way hands tremble not with greed, but with the weight of care.

There is no fire here, only a slow, steady light

mending what the world has bruised.

If 'lust' is a human invention to survive the cold,

then what do we call this?

This divine ache of putting someone else back together.

Maybe God didn't want us to just possess each other;

He wanted us to witness the healing.

I am done with the noise of the streets.

Give me the silence of a bandage,

the religion of a touch that asks for nothing in return.

[cerav2]

That water… it doesn’t just fall; it lingers,

Tracing maps on his skin that I’m not allowed to read.

I should look away, perhaps check the time or the sky,

But my eyes have become like old, stubborn habits.

I tell myself it is just the humidity of this city,

A trick played by the evening light on a tired mind.

It’s a strange thing, isn’t it?

To be a man of stone, yet feel like salt in the rain.

I’ll wrap this moment in a layer of silence,

Label it 'nothing' and tuck it behind a shadow.

He is just rinsing off the dust of the day,

He doesn't know he’s washing away my carefully built walls.

I’ll pretend I was just counting the drops,

Not the seconds my heart forgot to beat.

Denial is a soft blanket; I’ll just sleep under it for now.

[cerav2]

I told myself to look away—

yet my eyes betrayed me first.

The way he watched… it wasn’t innocent.

Not a glance—no,

a nazar that lingered like a dangerous secret,

slowly slipping beneath my skin.

“Pervert,” I breathed—

but even my lips softened around the word,

as if they refused to wound him.

Because what unsettled me wasn’t him—

it was how I didn’t step back,

how a part of me… leaned into being seen.

[cerav2]

I look at these videos and I realize,

we weren’t just living; we were burning through the best years of our lives.

We treated our time together like it was infinite,

like the sun would never dare to set on our laughter.

I remember the way we occupied those streets,

owning the air with our meaningless jokes and loud, messy dreams.

I was so busy being "us" that I forgot to notice

the world was slowly stealing those seconds away.

Now, the silence of this room is deafening.

I’m standing in the wreckage of a "yesterday"

that I didn’t know was my last chance to feel whole.

It’s a cruel joke, isn't it?

That you only feel the gravity of a moment

once you’re falling through the empty space it left behind.

These aren't just clips anymore;

they are the remains of a kingdom we didn't know we were losing.

And now, I am a stranger

trying to find a home in a memory that no longer exists.