What personality trait in people raises a red flag with you?
In twilight lands where secrets roam,
Beneath the moon’s alabaster dome,
A tale is whispered through the trees—
Of hearts entangled, not set free.
Where river mirrors night’s regret,
And stardust dances, damp and wet,
The forest hums a haunting song,
Of bonds once pure that turned all wrong.
I. The Arrival of the Green-Eyed Wraith
From hollow winds and serpent shade,
A figure cloaked in emerald jade,
With eyes that flicker, pulse, and flame—
Jealousy, its ancient name.
It came not loud, but soft, unseen,
A whisper wedged in thoughts between;
It fed on glances, breathed in sighs,
And turned sweet love to poisoned ties.
“Beware,” the willow trees did moan,
“When hearts grow tight and not their own,
When love demands and claws and keeps,
It drinks from wells that dreamless weep.”
II. The Binding of the Silver Flame
There was a soul—a flame, aglow,
Who danced where other spirits go.
She loved with light, not clasped by chains,
She poured like unconfined rains.
But then he came, with velvet voice,
And spoke of fate, as if no choice—
He said, “If you are truly mine,
Then let no other see you shine.”
He watched her gaze, he weighed her steps,
He counted whom her breath had met.
A prison wrapped in petals fair,
Still suffocates with scented air.
And so the flame grew dim and cold,
Though nothing touched her, save his hold.
Her laughter ceased, her joy grew thin—
A caged bird sings not songs within.
III. The Oracle’s Warning
Through valleys steep and caverned stone,
An Oracle sat carved in bone.
With crystal eyes that time forgot,
She warned of lovers who love not.
“If he who guards you guards with fear,
And thrives when none dare venture near,
Then cast the ring, and break the thread—
For love that clutches leaves hearts dead.”
“Possession is a ghost in lace,
That wears a kind but cursed face.
It wraps its arms, then binds your wings,
And calls control a sacred thing.”
IV. The Mirror of the Mindful
Within a lake, beyond the real,
Where truths are shown and veils unseal,
The Mirror of the Mindful gleamed—
And in its glass, the seeker dreamed.
They saw themselves in love’s old flame,
But twisted, bent, no longer same.
They saw the eyes that watched too hard,
And doors once open, now kept barred.
And with a tear, they stepped away,
For love, when true, will never stay
In towers locked or tethered flight—
It basks in trust, it craves no night.
V. The Red Flags in the Garden
Beneath the blooms of twilight’s hush,
Among the foxglove and the brush,
Red banners swayed in silent code,
Warnings woven where true love strode.
One flag of crimson, lined in thorn,
Was marked by envy, deeply worn.
Another stitched in aching thread,
Spoke of “mine,” and hearts that bled.
Each petal fell, a whispered tale
Of love grown sharp, of lovers pale.
The lesson written in the air:
Beware the ones who do not share.
VI. The Return to the Open Path
The flame, once caged, escaped by star,
And journeyed wide, both near and far.
She danced again, she sang anew,
And found a love that freely grew.
Not one who clipped, nor one who clung,
But one who marveled as she sung—
Who saw her spirit blaze and burn,
And never feared she might not return.
For love is not a gilded trap,
Nor shackles dressed in silken wrap.
It is a wind, it is a tide—
It walks beside, it does not hide.
So if you meet a voice that clings,
That cages birds and clips their wings,
Step back, and read the signs you see—
For love, my friend, should make you free.
The Writings of Felina Silver 
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