Amidst the Silent Fractures

Amidst the Silent Fractures
By A Dena Mulyana

I wove sorrow into a shroud,
soft as twilight,
yet heavy with unsaid goodbyes.

I walked the corridors of memory
where echoes wear your voice—
gentle,
but sharp enough to draw blood
from a heart that refused to forget.

Is longing always this cruel?
Like a candle burning in a storm,
it flickers with hope,
only to be smothered
by the winds of truth.

Each silence between us
wrote verses on the walls of my chest.
Each breath,
a line carved in aching.

If you find this poem one day,
know this—
I never stopped waiting,
not like a fool,
but like the sky:
vast, unmoving,
forever open.