The Phantasmal Library {poetry and short stories}

[Ganyu]

{ the phantasmal library }
a collection of poetry and short stories written by a phantom

You take a quiet step forward albeit hesitant, but the temptation surrounds you and piques your curiosity. Shelves after shelves, as high as the ceiling, filled with literary treasure troves. You find a title pleasing to your tastes, and make yourself comfortable among the deep enveloping velvet of armchairs and recliners. Light flickers from spectral lampshades like kaleidoscopes, but they are warm and gentle on a reader's eyes. The hands crawl past midnight, slowly counting the hours to first light and last read. You waste no time, as you immerse yourself in this dimension where fantasy and reality blur into one.

Greetings! I'll cut to the chase, since I suppose you're here to read and not listen to a ghost's ramblings. To set the context straight, this is where I'll post all my writings from poetry to short stories, to drabbles and vignettes, to simply whatever I think constitutes as "writing". :3 It could be an excerpt to a novel project, or a prologue of sorts. Anything. All my works are as I've said before, open to interpretation and any feedback/critique on them is immensely appreciated~


{ catalogue }

{poetry}
Swan Song (http://www.pokemoncrossroads.com/forum/showthread.php?4769-The-Phantasmal-Library-poetry-and-short-stories&p=112716&viewfull=1#post112716)
Banshee (http://www.pokemoncrossroads.com/forum/showthread.php?4769-The-Phantasmal-Library-poetry-and-short-stories&p=112885&viewfull=1#post112885)
Chicken Soup (http://www.pokemoncrossroads.com/forum/showthread.php?4769-The-Phantasmal-Library-poetry-and-short-stories&p=113264&viewfull=1#post113264)
A Fairytale For Her (http://www.pokemoncrossroads.com/forum/showthread.php?4769-The-Phantasmal-Library-poetry-and-short-stories&p=113357&viewfull=1#post113357)
Stray Sheep (http://www.pokemoncrossroads.com/forum/showthread.php?4769-The-Phantasmal-Library-poetry-and-short-stories&p=113565&viewfull=1#post113565)
Checkmate (http://www.pokemoncrossroads.com/forum/showthread.php?4769-The-Phantasmal-Library-poetry-and-short-stories&p=113798&viewfull=1#post113798)
Language of the Heart (http://www.pokemoncrossroads.com/forum/showthread.php?4769-The-Phantasmal-Library-poetry-and-short-stories&p=114084&viewfull=1#post114084)
Dead Awake (http://www.pokemoncrossroads.com/forum/showthread.php?4769-The-Phantasmal-Library-poetry-and-short-stories&p=114402&viewfull=1#post114402)
Black Swan (http://www.pokemoncrossroads.com/forum/showthread.php?4769-The-Phantasmal-Library-poetry-and-short-stories&p=114790&viewfull=1#post114790)
If Life was Photoshop (http://www.pokemoncrossroads.com/forum/showthread.php?4769-The-Phantasmal-Library-poetry-and-short-stories&p=114986&viewfull=1#post114986)
A Bird's Tweets (http://www.pokemoncrossroads.com/forum/showthread.php?4769-The-Phantasmal-Library-poetry-and-short-stories&p=115270&viewfull=1#post115270)
Goodbye Daughter (http://www.pokemoncrossroads.com/forum/showthread.php?4769-The-Phantasmal-Library-poetry-and-short-stories&p=115557&viewfull=1#post115557)
Underwater (http://www.pokemoncrossroads.com/forum/showthread.php?4769-The-Phantasmal-Library-poetry-and-short-stories&p=115879&viewfull=1#post115879)
Occult Sales (http://www.pokemoncrossroads.com/forum/showthread.php?4769-The-Phantasmal-Library-poetry-and-short-stories&p=116027&viewfull=1#post116027)
Storms (http://www.pokemoncrossroads.com/forum/showthread.php?4769-The-Phantasmal-Library-poetry-and-short-stories&p=116171&viewfull=1#post116171)
A Lifelong Lesson (http://www.pokemoncrossroads.com/forum/showthread.php?4769-The-Phantasmal-Library-poetry-and-short-stories&p=121629&viewfull=1#post121629)

{short stories}
Old Chateau (http://www.pokemoncrossroads.com/forum/showthread.php?4769-The-Phantasmal-Library-poetry-and-short-stories&p=113054&viewfull=1#post113054)

{miscellaneous}

[Ganyu]

Swan Song
I am not like the peacock with a wealthy plume,
or flashes hanging on me for form.
I am not like those high-fliers, the eagle, the condor,
destined to carry a crown into the clouds.

I'm not a canary who fills the breeze with euphoria.
Neither am I a dove, so peaceful and pure,
Her feathers in and out are unruffled,
but I am a shell with many cracks.

I am not an owl who studies problems -
a turn of the eyes and they come full circle.
Even the lowly crows and other ground-peckers
walk with grander loftier thoughts than mine.

I am the black cygnet, cast aside in a pond
with only moisture and flies for company.
Among the reeds and floating moss,
I'm the rotten egg, the foul fowl.
A portrait of nature's grief and misery.

I want the canary's voice and peacock's beauty,
so that many will behold me in their gaze
I want the dove's grace and owl's insight,
so many will follow me as my flock.

Then, maybe, the sky and wind can finally accept me.

Author's Note: This was the first (and probably the last?) confessional poem I've ever written, and it was quite a challenge given that I didn't really like writing about myself. I guess I was inspired by Plath as well as watching poetry slams on Youtube. I shan't say what I was thinking while penning this poem; it's up to you to interpret and maybe you'll learn something new about me?

[Nagisa]

That was a really cool poem! I really liked reading it. My only criticism is that when you say "I'm a shell with many cracks", I think it would sound better as "I am"?

[Ganyu]

That was a really cool poem! I really liked reading it. My only criticism is that when you say "I'm a shell with many cracks", I think it would sound better as "I am"?
Indeed it does. That contraction was laziness on my part. Thanks for the comments and I'm glad that you enjoyed reading~

[Ganyu]

Banshee
Like the buzzing of mosquitoes,
nails crying against a board,
some shrill untamed throat
twists the arms of ears
In a chapel service.
In a cafe. In a mall.
In a crowded train.

Bodies squirm,
hiding discomfort between rigid lips,
feigning ignorance to
the riddle in the air, its origins
neither angel nor demon knows.

The closest to the call
watches over the conundrum
that veils truth
in its discordance.
Mature minds struggle to grasp,
like tiny fingers in curious stretching.

In arm-locked cradles and pushed perambulators,
In midnight cots and afternoon naps,
In springtime park walks and urban rush hours,
Life demands to be heard - its enigmatic song.

Author's Note: The subject matter should be obvious. In actuality, I dislike crying babies. It's odd how I wrote this poem.

[Ganyu]

Old Chateau
We thought it was empty until we stepped inside.

Shivering cold, with hearts in our mouths. We stood at the door, hearts throbbing and full of young blood and adrenaline, with the wind howling in our ears, as if daring us forward.

The doors ominously creaked shut, enveloping us in darkness. Someone fumbled around in their pockets and soon, a bright line was cast, and although we were hesitant of what we might fish, our bold brainless feet led the way.

What seemed to be a vacant dilapidated house, was filled with remnants of past lives. The light flickered over two gargoyle-esque statues, guarding the dining hall. Lifeless granite beads eyed us like a sleeping Cerberus, as we slowly shied away. Old wooden boards made hollow groans as we climbed up the stairs. Our shadows spilled out into the dusty hallway. Up here, the air was stale and still, as though time was frozen and feared moving. We shuffled past a portrait of a man hung on the wall, the light nearly going out as its bearer lost his grip for a moment, upon seeing the blank eye sockets.

We reached the end of the hallway, stopping before a door with a rusted knob. It was locked. Someone pressed their body against the peeling wood, before aged wood gave way to young lean muscles. The door opened up to a metallic rung of stairs leading up...

To the attic. Boxes of junk, wrapped in cobwebs filled it to the brim. As we dispersed to explore its treasures, someone found a radio and switched it on.

"Bringing to you, the one and only..." The obsolete gadget crackled to life.

"Hey, shut it off!" I whispered in fear of getting found out, to whoever it was. However my companions only stared at me in shock. A cold lump hardened in my throat as I slowly turned to look at the radio, sitting on top of a box, untouched.

The static-filled voices slowly transitioned into classical music, organs and strings echoing throughout the attic. We stared at it in muted horror. Then, an old television set in a neglected corner, flashed to life, screen depicting moving black-and-white characters.

There was a thud as someone's head met the wooden floorboards.

Instinctively we all rushed towards the stairs. An old light bulb burst into a shower of glass over us. The first person clambered down the rusted rungs, only to find that the door would not budge.

The television set grew louder and louder, as my friends screamed and fell away into shadows. One by one. Until I was the only one left, in the dark.

Author's Note: Inspired by a prompt (which was the first line). This was supposed to be a Halloween writing contest entry but I thought against entering. Besides, I always feel obliged to write some Halloween fanfiction every year so it was a good excuse for me to write hehe. If you're wondering why it's so short, there was a word cap of 500; this is a vignette in a sense. :s

[Ganyu]

Chicken Soup
I always wondered what of chicken soup
made it so appealing to people?
How could chicken broth -
conjured out of water and grain,
manufactured in sachets
and frozen in time by silicon -
make someone feel full?

Could it be that it was made with
hands tender and warm, that
carefully poised the kettle's snout
and pour their hearts into a little cup
of someone's soul, waiting to be warmed?

But what good is a sip
when it only turns ice into snow;
when there's abundant heat out there,
to be hunted, caught, and made into soup.
Idle blades weigh themselves
with rust from lack of want,
sleeping deep within their sheath,
like a coffin in soil's underneath.

Pages can feed you tales that enrich your soul,
but like the ink on old parchment, memories fade.
Breathe life into those words and feel your lungs move,
you will see a life writ out of a novel,
the greatest ever.
By yours truly,
the bold dreamer.

Author's Note: As the name suggests, I wrote this poem as a commentary on the book series "Chicken Soup for the Soul". I'm not really a fan of self-help books but while I don't condone reading it, I think people shouldn't be over-reliant on such books. It's good that words can heal but reading is as good as not acting which is just not 100% helpful. Maybe 50? But that's it really.

[Suicune's Fire]

Cool poems. :] I've quite enjoyed them so far. I still have yet to read the two most recent (one being a story and not a poem), but I'll get to them shortly. Ahahah, the Banshee one being about babies. I dislike crying babies too. o.o It's hard to deal with. The only thing I'd change with that is getting rid of the comma after "call" in the third stanza.

You have a cool writing style! ^v^

[Ganyu]

Cool poems. :] I've quite enjoyed them so far. I still have yet to read the two most recent (one being a story and not a poem), but I'll get to them shortly. Ahahah, the Banshee one being about babies. I dislike crying babies too. o.o It's hard to deal with. The only thing I'd change with that is getting rid of the comma after "call" in the third stanza.

You have a cool writing style! ^v^
Thanks! The title Banshee was an intentional irony XD Aaaaand I've no idea how the comma got there lol it does makes things look weird.

Thanks for taking the time to read~

[Suicune's Fire]

Haha, nice. They are like banshees sometimes. xD Omg. On planes it's the worst. x__x You know you'll be stuck with it for the rest of the flight.

No worries! (P.S. This marks my 40th post for the day, which is a little surprising... xD)

[Ganyu]

A Fairytale For Her
An elegant waltz reveals not the inner workings of limbs,
Nor a gloved outstretched hand show its sleeved vices.
The slipper may fit but glass will not last
Once the midnight bell ends its spell.

A night may fulfill one's dream,
But time easily uncloaks nightmares.
The undressing of love cannot be rushed
Lest its white swaddlings be ripped.

He does not come incomplete, but as a whole.
Like butter and bread, each with a unique flavor.
He will not appear as the sun with gilded rays.
He is the silver cloud, ending years of drought.

Not a bedtime tale, but a whisper to send you
dreaming. A breeze that sweeps away your fantasies.
A cratered moon's kiss, delicately imperfect.

Author's Note: I think I wrote this after watching Frozen. The whole "You can't marry someone you've just met" thing I think got my words moving xD

[Suicune's Fire]

I like the new poem! It's interesting. I think I know what angle you're taking...maybe. xD Two things about it seem slightly out of place, though:

The second line doesn't really make sense. I think if "show" was "shows" then it would. Or writing "Nor does a gloved...(etc)"

The other thing is where it has "dreaming." on a new line. It's odd that there's a period in the start of the line. Unless that was a particular stylisation decision, but even then I don't know if it works that well. Although if you like it, then that's fine. xD

Frozen was good. I watched Tangled last night for the first time and I really enjoyed it. x) I think I liked it more than Frozen, possibly. xD Anyway, good writing. 8)

[Pokemon Trainer Sarah]

I really love Swan Song. It's really touching and I like how you've described all the different birds, I can see their personalities so clearly. :)

Old Chateau was really creepy. I thought maybe Rotom would make an appearance in there. xD

It's always a pleasure to read your work! Thanks for sharing! ^^

[Ganyu]

I like the new poem! It's interesting. I think I know what angle you're taking...maybe. xD Two things about it seem slightly out of place, though:

The second line doesn't really make sense. I think if "show" was "shows" then it would. Or writing "Nor does a gloved...(etc)"

The other thing is where it has "dreaming." on a new line. It's odd that there's a period in the start of the line. Unless that was a particular stylisation decision, but even then I don't know if it works that well. Although if you like it, then that's fine. xD

Frozen was good. I watched Tangled last night for the first time and I really enjoyed it. x) I think I liked it more than Frozen, possibly. xD Anyway, good writing. 8)
Hmm, what angle might that be? ;3

Oh dang. Fixed it~

You're right on the stylization. Poets often refer to it as "enjambments".

Eheh, I watched Catching Fire last night to get hyped for Mockingjay. Funny how movies can put some thoughts into your mind. ;D


I really love Swan Song. It's really touching and I like how you've described all the different birds, I can see their personalities so clearly. :)

Old Chateau was really creepy. I thought maybe Rotom would make an appearance in there. xD

It's always a pleasure to read your work! Thanks for sharing! ^^
When I was a young bright-eyed munchkin, I read a big book on birds (Far more detailed than my poem of course xD). They still quite fascinate me now as a domain in the animal kingdom. :3

Maybe it did~ :>

[Ganyu]

Stray Sheep
Bleating, kicking and screaming,
it came into the world.
Its eyes mirrored the golden sun;
Its fleece fair like creamy clouds.

From afar, a danger lurked in the tall knives of green,
gray and ominous like thunderclouds in the horizon,
it spied on the lamb, mouth watering like thirsting Tantalus.
A guise it conceived, made to deceive.
Once the lamb left the flock,
chasing after a fluttering will o' the wisp,
it approached its oblivious meal.

Alas, it was too late,
when the lamb realized it wasn't a black sheep.
Dark claws raked her thick coat,
causing tufts of white to fall apart
like the unpetaling of flowers.
She managed to run away,
but she would never be the same again.

Her fleece had darkened where the wolf touched;
eyes impured by the predator's bloodlust.
She'd left behind her innocence -
torn to shreds by the ravenous wolf.

Author's Note: The theme was "sheep". And I had to make a Catcher in the Rye reference.

[Ganyu]

Checkmate
Tiny ink-black pawns march across
the freshly printed board.
Two tiles forward, one tile backwards.
A long weary journey, riddled with perils.
One slip, and you are trapped en passant.

We are the unfavoured.
We scrabble for words,
to add to layers of syntax,
piecing together nuances and connotations
to build walls that would protect us

from The White.

The empty, abstract White.
The army of infinite soldiers
with their spatial arsenal - a sea
that threatens to subsume
our only pool of thought,
and erode our only line of attack.
White has the advantage;
gaining the first move,
and forcing us to play
the mad king's game.

Do not belittle the pawns.
Alone, they are insignificant
but they exalt among enemies,
thriving like blackbirds
during dark days.

One word to end it all.
One word, and the crown falls.

Checkmate.

Author's Note: Chess imagery was something that greatly took up my attention and imagination over the course of the year. Black vs White seemed like something I could play with; a palette for me to draw out my musings. Ink and paper, a writer's best company, are also black and white. Can you guess what this poem is about? Imagine sitting on a desk, timer before you, pen in hand and blank paper staring back at you, waiting for you to write, for your life depended on it.

[Ganyu]

Language of the Heart
I do not speak
the language of the heart.
It is fickle and vague,
switching and adding meanings
to words I already know,
rendering them useless.

It talks out of line -
does not link with the brain -
and stutters with palpitation.
Its starry-eyed speaker breathes through
rose lips between blushed cheeks.

The heart is hard to translate,
and it is hard to give away too.
In another pair of palms,
the crimson muscle is a glass globe.
And only time will tell
if two hearts put together,
bound forever,
may break and shatter into pieces.

Author's Note: People do weird things when they listen to the heart. As for me, I prioritize my mind over my heart.

[Ganyu]

Dead Awake
Drowning in the sedative fragrance of ink,
my head inclined in bleak prayer with a sigh,
hoping for knowledge to diffuse from book to skull,
hoping for a bulb to light up, for the pen to move.

Lessons panned back and forth in my mind
like someone flipping through old albums;
a frantic panoramic search.

Language flooded through my pores,
binary codes as foreign as Greek.
Alabaster walls of text glaring back,
cold harsh blocks of obsidian black.

There were pies and tables a machine could eat,
while I starved for daily commodities:
a gallon of sleep, a bowl of dreamy sweets.
A luxury ticket to a faraway place,
hands free;
no dark sleeping bags nor heavy overnighters.

I traverse through uncharted territory,
each step an inch into the minefield,
a breath closer to sinking deep.
Spiraling deep down into a valley,
flanked by hills growing by the ton
with the each passing of the sun.

And the walls came crumbling over me,
iron paperweights hailing down,
rolling thunder on the ground.

I woke up dead.

Author's Note: The prompt was "I woke up dead." I wrote this in the dead of the night, after making my way through a mountain of assignments. A lot of wordplay in here, I'll let you spot them.

[Ganyu]

Black Swan
Direct me,
with the script in your hand.
Two can play at this game,
when the curtains unfurl,
they won't have a clue.

I'll be the Thalia to your Melpomene,
in the storm's needle eye of feathers.
My arias will paint the skies white
while you wallow in your low ballads.
Careful not to ruffle your plume,
while you tiptoe around the lakeside.
Shadows cast across the ripples
on which false lights reflect a smile.

Our stage is split into
black and white,
like two faces of a coin,
tossed in mid-air,
flipping and turning,
waiting to see who would fall face flat,
and who would face the heavens.

The black swan's neck arcs in the final verse of its song,
as the audience weeps for the perfect tragic finish.

Author's Note: Unfortunately, what chess doesn't teach you is that mind games are never in black and white. Chess references, again? I can't help it. xD

[Ganyu]

If Life was Photoshop
I would crop out bloodied bursts tainting forehead and face,
and make my skin a white pure hue,
my eyes one green, one blue.

I would crop my waistline to be thinner,
crop my thighs to be slimmer,
stretch my legs longer.
Length. Width. Breadth.
These were the ingredients to create perfection;
The ultimate recipe and formula.

Erase all the weight from my arms, sharpen my nose and jawline,
and etch lines into my eyelids.
Paint myself like one of those French girls.

I would clone on boys the geometrical curves of strength,
And slice across their abdomens to create symmetry in square pixels.
I would take the cratered skins and light it with the sun and stars.

I would black out the eyes of those who shoot dirty looks
and blur out the mouths of foul curses.
Crop these people from the grand picture,
then frame it up so that posterity
may look back and see
how beauty was once skin-deep.

Author's Note: Inspired by a Twitter conversation I had with friends. The message should be glaringly obvious lol. What are pictures on media often accused of? Being Photoshopped. :3

[Ganyu]

A Bird's Tweets
With skyward songs
and unfurled wings,
the little blue bird flies over
uncharted lands and seas
like long telephone cables
transmitting static envelopes.

From blank little eggs,
life sputters into existence
like crying clocks in the dawn.
Each note is a careful takeoff,
each line a catch of air.

The bluebird chirps,
telegrams tapping in Morse,
crisp and concise codes,
discrete dots and dashes - staccatissimo.

With skyward songs
and unfurled wings,
the little blue bird soars
among the computing clouds
that pours over the world's web;
the rain heralding a new age.

Author's Note: A poem on social media and how it has changed the world.

[Ganyu]

Goodbye Daughter
Weep for them,
But dry your tears.
Raise your daughters
Build them up
like rockets to avenge.
Fill them with your beliefs
until they burst
with glorious life.

Author's Note: A controversial piece about a certain group who militarize their offspring in their radical conquest. Yes this was inspired by recent world affairs.

[Ganyu]

Underwater
Let me breathe in the entirety of the world
from deep sea clear to endless azure.
Let my air gush out like bubbles,
sparkling spring freezes into winter.

Let my vessels merge with the sea
like babies crawling to their mothers.
Let the coolness drape over my eyes,
like riverine Venetian blinds.

Let the oceans baptize me and weigh
my sins against the bones of ships.
Let them be washed away
into the gilded depths of lost cities.

Let the moon tug me away among tides
like pulling white sheets off beds.
Let the stars shine their infinitesimal lights,
and adorn me with pearls on the mosaic seabed.

Let me finally close my eyes
and sleep underwater.

Author's Note: Every now and then, I have strong thoughts and urges to just sleep forever and never wake up.

[Ganyu]

Occult Sales
Unluckiest I ever was
when you knocked.
Like the thirteenth chime
of a clock.

You say you're here to save me;
You say you've witnessed my crime.
I won't buy your lies,
not even for a dime.

Entertain my neighbours
with your peddled doctrine.
They buried all their trust
six feet below in a coffin.

Author's Note: A poem about people who sell their faith, not gonna name names.

[Ganyu]

Storms
Hear the roaring thunder,
and feel the relentless rain.
Tearing the heavens asunder,
Bursting clouds and bleeding veins.

Water to cleanse the land's blight,
Holy and pure and endlessly pouring.
Heavy blows rain with bolts of light,
As the skies fill the earth with its weeping.

The tempest wrestles with the torrent,
Bringing forth fog and misty spray,
Exchanging blows ever so violent,
Their rage painting the skies gray.

As the stars are thrown into disarray,
and the elements display their might,
On soaked sponge soil will I lay,
and dream peacefully through the pluvial night.

Author's Note: I love the rain. And stormy nights especially put me in a poetic mood.

[Ganyu]

A Lifelong Lesson
I had always respected teachers,
until I began to fear them.
I was David without a catapult,
trembling before a great grizzly Goliath.
The banshee screeched, baring
rows and rows of serrated knives
that made the words cut so deeply.
I deserved to be punished,
to feel the full force of the hammer
slamming down on me,
to be marked with a scarlet letter.
I should not have done it.
The mantra of guilt resounded.
I should not have done it.
She made me feel like I had
sinned the worst sin ever known.
But I could not remember what I did.
I no longer had reason nor logic
It was as if I did not exist in that moment,
It was as if I did not do anything at all.

[Ganyu]

Winter's Gift
Winter brings silence.
Its stars are bright,
bestowing guidance.
Snow falls to white
the coming dark night.

A/N: Trying out the cinquain form. Rhyming is not my forte at all; I've heard it described as necropastoral. Also, expect to see a wee bit more updates since I'm writing stuff for my college publications' Tumblr. xD

[Ganyu]

Masks
If I keep having pieces of me taken away,
my mind will spiral down into the
emptiness my soul has left behind.

I am forced to keep finding faces
that I can wear among the crowd.
Riddled with bullet holes, I have
less and less masks.
Soon I'll have nothing else to wear,
but blank eyes and dead smiles;
the caricature of nonexistence.

Stripped bare and tossed into the currents,
like a bottle in the waves,
hollow with a message
faded and forgotten.
The world crashes down and I find myself
misplaced in the endless sea,
that pulls me into the
bottomless black and blue
depths of my lungs.

Slowly, I fall into the night.
Closer to darkness, closer to home.
Memories hover at the fringe of oblivion,
wanting to be a part of the illusion.
They lost themselves to a revelation,
a thousand faces in constant motion.
I became them and they became me.
A phantasmagoria of velvet divisions,
woven with a common thread of deceit.
I masked the crowd
And the crowd masked me.

A/N: Undertones of the music I listen is evident in the theme(s) explored here.

[Ganyu]

Wow, it's been about half a year since I've updated this thread. x_x

Super Mario

He has traversed the thorny desert,
passed through ruins of bones,
survived houses of phantoms,
and jungles rife with danger.

He has dodged bullets,
swam through long rivers.
He has navigated mazes of pipes,
Some with flowers that burn,
Some with pits of lava.

No challenge was too tough.
No enemy too powerful.
No banana peel nor shell could slow him.
He simply leaped over them.

No matter how many times they say
"Our princess is in another castle!",
he will still continue to jump,
to win his prize - her freedom.

[Ganyu]

Adrift

We were like the moon and the sea,
You pushed and I pulled.
We were Yin and Yang.
We were White and Black;
With no grey areas.
We were always on the same wavelength,
till no one could decode our words.

We were like icebergs
that slowly drifted apart.
Away from the floe,
into different horizons.
The sea was a chilly divide,
slowly eroding our forms
until we were completely different.

Once, I had a fleeting thought of you,
But like snow that melts in the sun,
the memory was over and done.
I had no time to stop and ponder,
if you were a ghost from the past,
before I plunged headfirst into new waters.

If we had crossed paths,
would we have met eyes?
Would the chills of familiarity
shiver up my spine?
Would we have remembered
who we once were?

A/N: I am back.