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SpaceHey Blog URL:
https://blog.spacehey.com/onnaya
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Category: Writing and Poetry
It was a morning cupped in sunlight, 7:30 drifting lazy through the summer break. I opened my eyes to the hush of a house not yet awake, and nudged my little sister — come quick! — to the kitchen balcony, where a » Continue Reading
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Category: Writing and Poetry
In a city soaked by sorrow’s tide, Tears collect in secret ponds unseen, » Continue Reading
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Category: Writing and Poetry
Some things only bloom in the quiet. Like memory. Like grief. Like the strange, holy warmth of knowing you’re still here— even after the leaving, even after the ache has carved a second heartbeat » Continue Reading
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Category: Writing and Poetry
The city slows down in the rain. It stops pretending it has somewhere to be. Cars hush as they pass, their headlights swimming through puddles like fireflies looking for a way home. Above you, streetlamps glow like » Continue Reading
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Category: Writing and Poetry
The city breathes slower in the rain. Drops stitch silver threads across windowpanes, and the pavement, dark and slick, reflects the world in fragments— a streetlamp here, a passing car, the silhouette of a tree swaying gently like it remembers somethin » Continue Reading
Category: Blogging
Bruh. So yeah — looks like that last fictional thing we did didn’t really land, huh? Didn’t get the cloud, didn’t hit the vibe. From now on, I guess we won’t be doing that style again. Man… my readers are picky! 😂 But honestly, I take that as a compliment. I think I might’ve spoiled y’all with good stuff before, so now you’re hungry for more — and I love that. But truth be told, right now I don’t ... » Continue Reading
Category: Writing and Poetry
The morning was pale with spring light. She stood beneath the old oak tree in the garden where they had met so often before — when words had not yet been spoken, when only glances passed between them. But now — he was coming. She heard footsteps on the stone path. » Continue Reading
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Category: Writing and Poetry
(Late at night, sitting alone with her letter. He writes by candlelight.) 18 May Home — at last I am writing this by the glow of a single candle. » Continue Reading
Category: Writing and Poetry
(She writes it that same night — hands trembling — after he speaks the words at last.) My Edmund, I write this while the stars are still bright outside my window — for I cannot sleep » Continue Reading
Category: Writing and Poetry
She is standing by the window again. The light catches her hair — that familiar gold — and my breath falters. How many times have I stood just out of reach, watching her as if from another world? I, who have faced witches and wolves, am undone by her glance. » Continue Reading
Category: Writing and Poetry
(He is traveling; he knows he will see her soon. His heart is full and restless.) 15 May Somewhere between London and home The sea outside the trai » Continue Reading
Category: Writing and Poetry
The letter was hidden in a drawer — unfinished, unsent. The ink was faded in places, but the words still burned. My beloved — my dearest breath — By the time you read this, I fear I will no longer have the courage to speak these word » Continue Reading
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