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A Blank Verse Poetry


I ran this morning. Gray sky, nothing special. Weather that doesn’t force you to feel anything. Usually, I wander without purpose. Today, something stopped me.

Time is a trap. We pretend it’s limited, but it isn’t. So we rush through it—steps, choices, life—until it all blurs. The small things disappear. The smell of earth, the quiet air. Gone.

A song got stuck in my head. “I’ll stop the world and melt with you.” Unwanted. Persistent. How did it get in?

Maybe fate. Maybe nothing. I don’t believe in destiny, but here I was—stuck in the sound, stuck in a loop. The world paused inside me. I didn’t move.

The day went on. Hands trembled—not from connection, but from the weight of existing. Scars on skin—maps of past failures. Nothing clean, nothing clear.

I touched a cheek. No softness. Smoke? Habit? Grip loosened—like sanity slipping. Wanting to let go, but afraid of the emptiness that follows.

I kissed a cheek. A stupid move. A laugh broke the silence. A glitch. A mistake.

Coffee and words. Trying to name what can’t be named. Logic fails. Morality warps. Life isn’t a puzzle. It’s a mess. Blind. Broken.

Trust is a guess. A fragile line in chaos.

Everything ends. The world spins. Pauses, melts, memories—nothing lasts.

Shared moments fade—drinks, rain, silence, light. All temporary. Nothing stays.

Why rush the end? Why not slow it down? No plans. Just this.

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