thorny oasis
Was I able to be a home for you?
Did I provide you with the comfort you needed?
I hope I made you feel cozy.
I offered you my heart, filled with love,
Pumping blood, red like your house.
Even though the sunlight once shone in my kitchen,
It no longer sparkles brightly.
Now, there’s always something cooking
In my mind—welcome to my kitchen.
Where your memories serve as the ingredients,
And the thought of us makes the cuisine.
Here, I dance with your memories,
Drowning myself happily in theories.
Every puff I inhale carries a memory of you,
Every blink reveals a glimpse of you.
Every curling wisp of smoke resembles your hair,
Fading into the vast blue sky.
My room is abandoned once more,
Filled with emptiness.
Nothing remains except books
And traces of wisdom.
You open the pages but forget to embellish them,
Reading the lines but leaving them unmarked.
Lost in these translations,
With nothing but words.