claradeluna

[claradeluna]

And in the middle of the sea, I was forgotten—along with all the promises we made. I wonder how my heart is still slowly beating. I was pushed to open up, only to be left with memories.

[claradeluna]

And in the end, I saw it—my soul dying a bit every day. And I learned that love doesn’t often give; it just takes more and leaves you stranded.

[claradeluna]

Nighttime Streets

I wandered alone through nighttime streets of a city I’d never seen before perhaps a blend of places I once knew. It was beautiful, with glowing stalls and colored lights, crowds and laughter filling the air. Everything shimmered.

And yet... I wasn’t happy.

I didn’t know what I was seeking a sign, maybe solace. But I felt nothing.

I sat down and ordered a drink. Still nothing. No taste, no touch, not even the sight of it. Yet I had asked for it.

Someone sat beside me, speaking words I couldn’t hear. Their voice, like everything else, muffled and far.

I felt underwater.

I wanted to go home. And I didn’t. I was searching for what, or whom, I couldn’t say.

In the end, I stood and walked a nearly empty street, just a few distant silhouettes. I was heading home.

Melancholy ate me whole.

(…)

I woke. The dream had ended. But not the weight in my chest.

The dream was over The melancholy stayed with me

And today, like yesterday, my heart remains a lonely heart.

[claradeluna]

The Small Sunny House

It was a day like any other when I saw an ordinary house. It stood there among the others, but strangely, it was different. It intrigued me so much—I wanted to see it, to live in it. Every time I stepped inside, I wished for nothing more.

Yes, I wanted to live in that house. I wanted it to be mine.

The moment I got it...

I was happy, but also a little lost. The house was new. As I explored it day by day, I realized it wasn’t so small. It had many rooms, all with warm, welcoming tones—each one beautiful in its own way. I wanted to see them all, but I didn’t want to be an intruder. I tried to open each door gently.

And every room turned out to be more beautiful than the last—warmer, more loving.

When winter arrived, I discovered the house could offer so much warmth. Until one day, I began to notice shadows in certain spots. I thought they were just small patches. I loved that house, and I didn’t care.

But as the days passed, even the brightest rooms started to grow darker. The rooms weren’t the same anymore.

Sometimes I would open a door and find it so different from the one I had seen at the beginning. One day, I opened a door that hurt my heart for the first time. There was so much sadness and frustration in that room. I thought maybe I could ignore it—it was just one room, after all. It didn’t define the whole house I loved so dearly.

But each day, a new door revealed itself—rooms I had never seen before. And soon, it became normal to live in the cold and shadow. I tried to warm the house again, to make it a place of love and affection once more, but every flower I planted, every seed I nurtured with care and dedication, would wither or be forgotten in the shadows of the cold room, until it died.

Another two months passed, maybe more, and the house was no longer what it once was. I couldn’t find a single warm room anymore—everything was left in cold and shadow. When I returned to the house, the door would sometimes open just enough to let a faint ray of light through, a dim echo of the past, but the shadows had grown too strong, and the light was too weak to survive.

I tried everything, but every effort seemed useless. The shadows devoured everything, and many of the most beautiful, brightest rooms closed off forever. I didn’t see those rooms anymore—only sometimes, a small sliver of light peeked through the cracks in the doors.

It hurt. It hurt so much. It was impossible not to cry. The shadows attacked me every day, and the wounds that the sun and warmth of the house had once healed so quickly reopened— this time more violently, more painfully than before.

It hurts so much.

The shadows began to consume me too. Sometimes, remembering the deep love the house had once given me, I would return to those rooms of the past, but instead of comfort, I began to feel grief and loss— because I didn’t know if the house would ever be the same again. Because I didn’t know what awaited me in the future.

I'm scared. I feel lost.

May is coming to an end. The house is emptier than ever—and it's emptying me too. The foundations I worked so hard to build seem to be giving way. I try to hold them up, but I’m alone—and these arms aren’t strong enough by themselves.

I just want to hear: "Let’s go back home. I still want you. I need you."

And if you're wondering— this story isn’t about a house.

[claradeluna]

A soldier in the trenches

I thought I had found my island, a space where every part of me belonged Then I discovered you weren’t an island but another harbor You’re not concrete but sand; you’re not earth but water You move with the speed of waves, leaving me behind

I remain buried among the memories trapped inside me I am like a soldier in the trenches; I am alive, yet the landscape is barren And it hurts, I try to return to that island, only to be rejected each time I never thought I’d feel that pain again, as if reopening old wounds was an inescapable fate

And you have no idea how much I miss you You were the sun filtering through my wounds You patched them all up, one after another, only to have them violently reopened I’m afraid and I feel lost, but I keep it all inside, it’s a cage, in a prison I’ve built around my heart

I thought you were mine, yet I watch you slip away through my trembling fingers And I already bear my own chains on my heart; I don’t have the strength to chain you too Forgive my darkness, it seems I’m unable to help you Perhaps, in the end, it’s my fault, I believed I deserved something beautiful,

Something human and profound, but now I know I don’t deserve it And here I remain, like a drop without a sea

Longing to be part of an ocean that remains forever out of reach.