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  • The language of crows (Marcella Boccia)

    The language of crows (Marcella Boccia)
    Feb 20 2025
    The language of crows (Marcella Boccia)

    They gather where the twilight fades,
    black scribes upon the weary sky,
    their voices stitched in broken shades,
    a riddle sung, a last goodbye.
    I hear them whisper, sharp and low,
    in tones no lips have ever learned,
    a tongue of sorrow, born of woe,
    where every sound is lost, then burned.
    They call to me, they chant my name,
    as if they know the things I hide,
    the secrets buried, burned in shame,
    the silent grief I keep inside.
    Yet still I listen, still I wait,
    for words I’ll never understand—
    a fate foretold, a sealed fate,
    scratched in the dust by feathered hand.
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    1 Min.
  • Ghosts in my veins (Marcella Boccia)

    Ghosts in my veins (Marcella Boccia)
    Feb 20 2025
    Ghosts in my veins (Marcella Boccia)

    They move like whispers through my blood,
    soft specters spun from loss and lore,
    a fleeting chill, a crimson flood,
    the echoes of what came before.
    They hum in pulses, dark and deep,
    old voices buried in my skin,
    they stir in dreams, they wake in sleep,
    they call me back, they pull me in.
    No priest can bless, no fire can burn,
    no love can hush their sad refrains—
    for I was born, and I will turn
    to dust with ghosts still in my veins.
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    1 Min.
  • The door I never opened (Marcella Boccia)

    The door I never opened (Marcella Boccia)
    Feb 20 2025
    The door I never opened (Marcella Boccia)

    I traced its edges in the night,
    where dust and silence intertwined,
    a threshold bathed in silver light,
    a passage locked inside my mind.
    My fingers lingered on the grain,
    a trembling thought, a breath held tight,
    behind it—shadows called my name,
    but I stepped back, escaped their sight.
    Some doors, once touched, will not forget,
    some truths, once known, will twist and bend—
    so I walked on, though still I fret
    for all I lost, for what won’t end.
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    1 Min.
  • In the hollow of my heart (Marcella Boccia)

    In the hollow of my heart (Marcella Boccia)
    Feb 20 2025
    In the hollow of my heart (Marcella Boccia)

    There is a place no light can reach,
    no lover’s hand, no whispered prayer,
    a silent wound too deep for speech,
    a hollow carved by time and air.
    The winds may howl, the tides may turn,
    yet nothing fills the space I keep,
    where embers ache but never burn,
    where echoes sing but never weep.
    No key, no name, no voice, no art
    could ever mend or tear apart
    the void that breathes, the ghost that dwells
    within the hollow of my heart.
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    1 Min.
  • The echo of an unspoken word (Marcella Boccia)

    The echo of an unspoken word (Marcella Boccia)
    Feb 20 2025
    The echo of an unspoken word (Marcella Boccia)

    It lingers where the silence sways,
    between the dusk, beneath the tide,
    a ghost that time cannot erase,
    a shadow I have locked inside.
    No lips have shaped it into breath,
    no hand has traced it into ink,
    yet in the hollow hush of death,
    it haunts the space between the brink.
    No ear will catch, no voice will claim,
    no wind will carry what it heard—
    for only I will know its name,
    the echo of an unspoken word.
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    1 Min.
  • Letters I never sent (Marcella Boccia)

    Letters I never sent (Marcella Boccia)
    Feb 20 2025
    Letters I never sent (Marcella Boccia)

    I wrote them all in ink too pale,
    on paper thin as winter air,
    each word a ghost, each line a veil,
    too frail to hold, too light to bear.
    I sealed them with a quiet breath,
    addressed to names I dared not speak,
    to lovers lost, to dreams of death,
    to days that bent but did not break.
    They linger still in drawers unseen,
    their edges worn, their voices spent—
    a graveyard of what could have been,
    these letters that I never sent.
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    1 Min.
  • The truth beneath my skin (Marcella Boccia)

    The truth beneath my skin (Marcella Boccia)
    Feb 20 2025
    The truth beneath my skin (Marcella Boccia)

    Beneath my skin, where silence dwells,
    a hidden river hums and winds,
    a pulse that no confession tells,
    a song that no one ever finds.
    It burns like stars too far to reach,
    too bright to touch, too old to name,
    it speaks in shivers, void of speech,
    yet every breath still feels the same.
    No blade could carve, no voice reveal
    the weight I bear, the fire within—
    for only darkness knows it’s real,
    the truth that lives beneath my skin.
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    1 Min.
  • When the moon calls me home (Marcella Boccia)

    When the moon calls me home (Marcella Boccia)
    Feb 20 2025
    When the moon calls me home (Marcella Boccia)

    When the moon calls me home, I go,
    soft-footed through the silver air,
    where midnight winds and rivers flow
    and none can find me anywhere.The world behind dissolves to mist,
    its voices drown in hush and glow,
    no lover’s hand, no priest’s cold wrist
    can hold me back from what I know.For in her light, I am unbound,
    no chains, no weight, no name to own—
    a whisper lost, a ghost unfound,
    when the moon calls me home.
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    1 Min.