Fall from the planet

Nobody noticed the silence inside me until sorrow learned how to wear anger, and suddenly I became the villain for bleeding too loudly. Perhaps thoughts are never random. They are born from fragments— from scenes that cut too deep to disappear, from feelings that stay long after the moment ends. Strong thoughts are made from strong remains of memory. And I know where mine came from. I loved her. Yet I was left upon the earth, watching from below while the stars danced happily beneath the moon. A distant witness, aching beneath a sky that did not know my name. So once, I abandoned the ground. I flew beyond the earth to see that light up close, believing distance was the only wall between us. But space is cruel in ways silence understands— for the nearer I drifted, the more she blurred into the background. Not gone, only unreachable in a different way. And there, among cold constellations, my hands touched nothingness. No revelation waited for me. No promise. No answer. So I returned. Not carrying hope, nor defeat grand enough to call tragedy. Only eyes that had already seen the picture too clearly. Only hands that remembered the shape of emptiness. Only a heart that once believed, once burned brigh