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"Midnight Conversations with My Past"

Juliette

Juliette

Favoured Frenzy
The clock strikes twelve, the world turns still,
And silence speaks louder than it ever will.
I lay in the dark, but I’m not alone —
My past arrives, soft-voiced and known.

It pulls up a chair, makes itself home,
Wearing old fears like a well-worn cologne.
"Remember that time?" it whispers low,
Unfolding regrets I tried not to show.

We talk of love that didn’t stay,
Of words I lost and should’ve let say.
Of people who vanished without goodbye,
And the version of me I had to let die.

It doesn’t shout, it never blames,
Just calls me gently by old names.
And in its eyes, I sometimes see
A version of who I used to be.

By morning it fades, like smoke in air,
But I feel its weight still sitting there.
Midnight leaves, but not without trace—
It etched my past back into place.

ca55f675-3bdd-435a-9b49-c3bd96e47861.jpeg
 
This felt like a quiet conversation with the soul. Beautifully written..,
Juliette said:
The clock strikes twelve, the world turns still,
And silence speaks louder than it ever will.
I lay in the dark, but I’m not alone —
My past arrives, soft-voiced and known.

It pulls up a chair, makes itself home,
Wearing old fears like a well-worn cologne.
"Remember that time?" it whispers low,
Unfolding regrets I tried not to show.

We talk of love that didn’t stay,
Of words I lost and should’ve let say.
Of people who vanished without goodbye,
And the version of me I had to let die.

It doesn’t shout, it never blames,
Just calls me gently by old names.
And in its eyes, I sometimes see
A version of who I used to be.

By morning it fades, like smoke in air,
But I feel its weight still sitting there.
Midnight leaves, but not without trace—
It etched my past back into place.

View attachment 355046
Click to expand...
 
Juliette said:
The clock strikes twelve, the world turns still,
And silence speaks louder than it ever will.
I lay in the dark, but I’m not alone —
My past arrives, soft-voiced and known.

It pulls up a chair, makes itself home,
Wearing old fears like a well-worn cologne.
"Remember that time?" it whispers low,
Unfolding regrets I tried not to show.

We talk of love that didn’t stay,
Of words I lost and should’ve let say.
Of people who vanished without goodbye,
And the version of me I had to let die.

It doesn’t shout, it never blames,
Just calls me gently by old names.
And in its eyes, I sometimes see
A version of who I used to be.

By morning it fades, like smoke in air,
But I feel its weight still sitting there.
Midnight leaves, but not without trace—
It etched my past back into place.

View attachment 355046
Click to expand...
Nice:Laugh1:
 
Juliette said:
The clock strikes twelve, the world turns still,
And silence speaks louder than it ever will.
I lay in the dark, but I’m not alone —
My past arrives, soft-voiced and known.

It pulls up a chair, makes itself home,
Wearing old fears like a well-worn cologne.
"Remember that time?" it whispers low,
Unfolding regrets I tried not to show.

We talk of love that didn’t stay,
Of words I lost and should’ve let say.
Of people who vanished without goodbye,
And the version of me I had to let die.

It doesn’t shout, it never blames,
Just calls me gently by old names.
And in its eyes, I sometimes see
A version of who I used to be.

By morning it fades, like smoke in air,
But I feel its weight still sitting there.
Midnight leaves, but not without trace—
It etched my past back into place.

View attachment 355046
Click to expand...
She wasn't doing a thing that I could see, except standing there leaning on the balcony railing, holding the universe together....
 
Juliette said:
The clock strikes twelve, the world turns still,
And silence speaks louder than it ever will.
I lay in the dark, but I’m not alone —
My past arrives, soft-voiced and known.

It pulls up a chair, makes itself home,
Wearing old fears like a well-worn cologne.
"Remember that time?" it whispers low,
Unfolding regrets I tried not to show.

We talk of love that didn’t stay,
Of words I lost and should’ve let say.
Of people who vanished without goodbye,
And the version of me I had to let die.

It doesn’t shout, it never blames,
Just calls me gently by old names.
And in its eyes, I sometimes see
A version of who I used to be.

By morning it fades, like smoke in air,
But I feel its weight still sitting there.
Midnight leaves, but not without trace—
It etched my past back into place.

View attachment 355046
Click to expand...
Poignantly beautiful poetry!
Awesome Intelligence™​
 
Juliette said:
The clock strikes twelve, the world turns still,
And silence speaks louder than it ever will.
I lay in the dark, but I’m not alone —
My past arrives, soft-voiced and known.

It pulls up a chair, makes itself home,
Wearing old fears like a well-worn cologne.
"Remember that time?" it whispers low,
Unfolding regrets I tried not to show.

We talk of love that didn’t stay,
Of words I lost and should’ve let say.
Of people who vanished without goodbye,
And the version of me I had to let die.

It doesn’t shout, it never blames,
Just calls me gently by old names.
And in its eyes, I sometimes see
A version of who I used to be.

By morning it fades, like smoke in air,
But I feel its weight still sitting there.
Midnight leaves, but not without trace—
It etched my past back into place.

View attachment 355046
Click to expand...
Actually those past making us stronger to face the rest...
 
Juliette said:
The clock strikes twelve, the world turns still,
And silence speaks louder than it ever will.
I lay in the dark, but I’m not alone —
My past arrives, soft-voiced and known.

It pulls up a chair, makes itself home,
Wearing old fears like a well-worn cologne.
"Remember that time?" it whispers low,
Unfolding regrets I tried not to show.

We talk of love that didn’t stay,
Of words I lost and should’ve let say.
Of people who vanished without goodbye,
And the version of me I had to let die.

It doesn’t shout, it never blames,
Just calls me gently by old names.
And in its eyes, I sometimes see
A version of who I used to be.

By morning it fades, like smoke in air,
But I feel its weight still sitting there.
Midnight leaves, but not without trace—
It etched my past back into place.

View attachment 355046
Click to expand...
Hello and good evening yet again Ms. . You have a great way with words and expressing your emotions. I hope I had an iota of this is in me cause I am known to be stone hearted hahahhahahahaa. Keep writing Ms. you have a lot of talent in you and I am glad you are putting it to good use. Cheers!!!!
 
Juliette said:
The clock strikes twelve, the world turns still,
And silence speaks louder than it ever will.
I lay in the dark, but I’m not alone —
My past arrives, soft-voiced and known.

It pulls up a chair, makes itself home,
Wearing old fears like a well-worn cologne.
"Remember that time?" it whispers low,
Unfolding regrets I tried not to show.

We talk of love that didn’t stay,
Of words I lost and should’ve let say.
Of people who vanished without goodbye,
And the version of me I had to let die.

It doesn’t shout, it never blames,
Just calls me gently by old names.
And in its eyes, I sometimes see
A version of who I used to be.

By morning it fades, like smoke in air,
But I feel its weight still sitting there.
Midnight leaves, but not without trace—
It etched my past back into place.

View attachment 355046
Click to expand...
Well written
 
I know that midnight visitor too,
It comes with shadows I once knew.
It speaks in hush, no need to shout,
Just lays my quiet fears all out.

But still I rise when morning breaks,
Carrying peace the silence makes.
The past may knock—but I don’t stay.
I nod, then softly walk away.
 
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