Let me ransack
your mental warehouse of memories,
Like a mindless
thief, I am looking for that particular piece of me.
Stolen moments,
put in the golden vault of hidden treasures
I live in an
alternated reality.
…
I woke up with
the sense of lack, something out of place
Left in darkness,
no one around me.
My head is
spinning, no familiarity.
I am looking at
the mirror – the face is mine and yet I feel something is missing.
Note left on the
table: ‘The pleasure was mine, thanks for the sliver of you’.
I can smell your
perfume on me – who are you mysterious person?
Why did you steal
from me?
…
You slipped
through the time and space like a whisper,
Your fingerprints
pressed into my dreams.
I can feel you
presence as if a quiet mumble is trying to explode.
I retrace every
phantom step, desperate for a clue—
What did you take
that I can’t remember, yet deeply feel?
My thoughts
unravel like thread from a torn seam,
Each memory
probed, yet none reveals your face or name.
Was it joy or was
it pain, was it both you left behind so engrained in my every cell?
Or was it
something purer and precious, impossible to replace?
…
Now I haunt my
own life like a ghost in rewind,
Suspended between
who I was and who I am now.
You didn’t just
steal what belonged to me—
You rewrote the
map I used to know somehow.
If I find you,
what would I say?
Would I ask for
return, or beg you to stay?
…
I will not
plead—I’ll hunt you like the sickness I feel – a tear into your dreams until
you bleed.
You split my soul
and wore it like badge of honour.
Now I am the
hunter and you are the prey - no more shadows—I drag you through the mud.
Each step is a
new wound; each word is a steel blade.
I am not the
dreamer you escaped—I am what is left
When humanity
decays and can’t be unmade.
Now I am speaking
to the dark walls—maybe they remember you.
I press my ear to
the thick silence, hoping it shares your name.
Even my shadow
recoils, sensing the war in me.
I will rewrite
our past nightly, each version more and more insane.
I try to see your
face in every reflection,
Yet it is still
blurry, this is all what’s left.
Now everything
tilts under the weight of your sweet theft.
I no longer
live—I just repeat.
My world loops
like a broken reel - this isn’t memory—it’s well done manipulation.
There is no end
to this search—only descent.
Each clue is a
well crafter trap, every answer so painfully untrue.
I used to be
whole and now I’m a question that always leads back to you.
…
You stitched your
name into my veins and now I hum it when I bleed.
The walls blink
when I speak of you,
And the all
clocks stop to listen – immersed in screams and agony.
I swallowed the
key to our past,
But it rattles
every time I breathe.
The wallpaper
peels back with your smile— you are in the drywall watching me sleep.
I found your
hands growing from my spine,
They clap when I
cry, they beg for more and I oblige.
The bed is full
of sadness and perfume— you left me here, didn’t you?
I dance with
shadows that wear your face,
I feed them
sugar, glass, and static noise.
They whisper that
you never left with clues of what you took.
They keep saying
I am lucky.
They say it is
magic born from the ugliness of the circus I am living in.
…
Am I insane or
just awake where no one should be?
The voices speak
in riddles, but they know my name.
My thoughts echo
back with different endings — some happy some truly deranged.
Sometimes I swear
I see myself watching me from afar.
What if the thief
was never real… just the unstable part of me I let slip free?
