SOLILOQUY.

e c h o e s o f o u r o w n s o u l s
What if, Maybe Probably?
—stardust.
dear readers,
What if I told you that I've fallen?
"Soliloquy" is more than just a book; it's a
Would things remain the same?
gathering of souls, a chorus of voices weaving
Maybe fear grip us, friendship to shatter
together poetry and prose. Each page is a
Probably its the uncertainty in our minds,
journey, a glimpse into the hearts and minds of
keeping our love confinced.
our contributing writers. Dive in, and let
their words resonate within you.
What if we had seen the signs, clear as day,
BUt pretended dare not to see?
The potential of what we could be?

warm regards,
What if we dared to break through the
Alexa
chains?
What if our souls long for a different
refrain?
Maybe we'd find a love so true
Probably making all our doubts would
vanish away
 Unspoken Echoes
—stardust.

Some love stories

are written without a
In the shadows of whispered promises,
happy ending and ours I find myself adrift in the echo of
is an example of it your silence.
I thought our hearts are entwined in
but at least,
lyrical symphony?
I met you Left out, betrayed, I'm starting to
on the halfway pout.
Unseen, unheard, in silence I cry,
of our promised
I am weary of the unspoken, the
infinity. unacknowledged.
What are we, after all?

—Lunaqueen. Like petals carried away by an

indifferent breeze,
Should I breathe life into what once
was, or let it be free?
 Finding the 'x' and 'y'
we need to let them go,
is not the worst part of Mathematics
bid them and
because Math tells us three of the
even how much we
saddest love story.
love that person,
we need to
first,
wave them a
t a n g e n t;
goodbye.
lines that had one chance
to meet then parted forever,
Endings may be
like love that abruptly happen
beautiful as sunset
but can't last 'til the end.
but waving someone
without a proper
second,
goodbye
p a r a l l e l;
hits different.
lines that will never meant to meet,
can be on the same side but
—Lunaqueen.
opposite railways,
feelings are comparable
but ain't compatible.
In the whispers of "what ifs" and maybes
we share,
Lies a world of longing, burdened with
care.
What if we dared to rewrite our story's
script,
And braved the unknown, our fears to
outstrip?

Maybe in the chaos, we'd find our way,

And build a love that forever would stay.
In the dance of uncertainty, we find our
plea,
Hoping "probably" leads us to where we
should be.
 I wrote poems about you
There are words
but it was left unread,
that better off unsaid
your name was under on my spell
and emotions that
but your emotions was caged and
better off unfelt,
I can't steal.
people that we
Long proses on my notes
wanted to unloved
and handwritten letters
and memories
with roses.
that we wanted to forget
Unread, unknown, hidden
and it sucks to bear this
on my own.
things everyday
What if I told you that
even how
I've fallen but my
much we wanted it to vanish away.
feelings are just hidden?

—Lunaqueen.
—Lunaqueen.
 My December’s
Epilogue
—stardust.

In the dying whispers of December winds, our tale softly When everything feels heavy,
glows. December, a silent witness to late-night Whom do I run to?
conversations and the glow of video calls that painted our
When everything is wrong,
world with hues of warmth. Yet, like the fading stars in
Who will tell me what is the right
the cold night sky, the bardagulans, playful banters that
once danced like fireflies, now lie dormant in the thing to do?
shadows. When I shed a river of tears,

Who will dry it?

In the silence of this wintry night, where our story
No one. and sadly, that's true.
began, I script the tragic finale of our chapter. No longer
do I wish for you to linger in my Decembers, where The reality of being lost in the
beginnings and endings intertwine. Let the bitter cold midst of life.
become the keeper of our shared memories. Though the
pain lingers, the prose is short, the end, though bitter, is
—Lunaqueen.
the necessary punctuation to a tale that once warmth our
Decembers.

how will i ever get over with all the memories
that stays longer than you did?
how will i ever get over with all the things i
love about you that became parts of me?
—selen
but i don't know how to heal from the wounds
people gave me. because even if they tell me to
move on and forget, i can't seem to take a step
forward knowing they never initiated an
apology for me to feel better, atleast.
—selen
They say, broken things are ugly but I think
it's beautiful. Its imperfections make it
beautiful, like the void of the moon, the waves
of ocean or a broken glass. An abstract canvas
is beautiful, so you are. Broken things are
beautiful. The damaged part is a perfect place
for a start to bloom.
—Lunaqueen.
sure there are a lot of things i regretted when i
met you. but there are also a lot of things i am
thankful about. moments that i will surely
treasure and moments that i'd rather forget.
still, i was enchanted to meet you.
—selen
 last,
a s y m p t o t e s;
I thought the lines who can get closer
opposite of love is hate but it will never be together,
but I was wrong, like two people who are not
hate is the absence of love destined to each other
but the opposite of love where hearts are being attached
is goodbye. and then shattered in the last.

A farewell you and me

to the people we are not lines in
onced loved. m a t h -
Someone we don't want yet why
to cut ties but needed, we are not
there are times that m e a n t ?
even how badly we
wanted to hold them —Lunaqueen.
we just can't,
 Unsettling waves brew of resilience
of déjà vu —stardust.

—stardust.

In solitude's embrace, just me and my coffee,

Bitter brew, a mirror of my soul's agony.
Each sips a taste of sorrow, each swallows a sigh,
In this bitter self, I find solace, though tears may dry.
Reveling in the joy of rediscovery, I find solace in
the sweet embrace of nostalgia. It's a whimsical
Through swirling steam and bitter grounds,
journey, rediscovering the silliness, quirky musings,
Echoes of bitterness, in every sip resound.
and unbridled fun that once defined me. Yet, as the
Yet in this bitter brew, a bitter truth untold,
heart rekindles its old flame, it also awakens dormant
A reminder of resilience, a story yet unfolds.
echoes of a pain long forgotten—the sting of Cupid's
arrow struck unrequitedly. So let me linger, in this bitter embrace,
The echoes of a familiar pain resurface, intertwining With each bitter sip, finding solace in this space.
with the joy of rediscovery, navigating the old waves For in the bitterness, I find strength anew,
with bittersweet hues of time. Just me and my coffee, in this bitter brew.