I see you standing there. It is nothing and everything — a single step toward you, yet the weight of the universe shifts beneath my feet. How many times have I watched from afar, turning and retu » Continue Reading
My dearest — my breath, my love — I write this now to no one. To shadows. To silence. To the empty space where once you stood. Every night I return to this page, because there is nowhere else I can ret » Continue Reading
(a letter I never dared to send) My dearest love, There are nights when I sit alone, the world fallen silent, and the only sound is the echo of your name inside my chest. I watch you — always watching. » Continue Reading
I watch you through the veil of time and glass, each movement a ripple upon this endless sea, your eyes, a language only I have learned to read, your breath, a secret wind that carries me. Through the slow dance of shadows we move, » Continue Reading
The room was dim, the music weaving through the silence like a whispered promise. I watched him move — each glance, each half-smile pulling me deeper into the tide of my own longing. We were both caught in a foolish lover’s game, spinning endlessly, neither daring to name the ache between us. But when his gaze met mine — slow, deli » Continue Reading
Just a little note from an ordinary day — soft hours, small tasks waiting, Narnia playing again. Sometimes that’s all the story needs to be. 🌿 “Not every day must be full — some are meant to be soft.” » Continue Reading
Wake from your sleep the voice says. but what if the sleep is the only place left where the pain fades? what if the soft dark is kinder than the morning? you sit up anyway. » Continue Reading
(Life, Love, Death, and the Words We Cling To) I hate myself. Some days I wake up and feel like I’m made of smoke. Like one day I’ll grow wings — not angelic ones, but ones from some strange chemical reaction: death, freedom, release. B » Continue Reading
One day, you said, you will grow wings — A chemical reaction, death, and freedom. And life will hit you hard — harder than you can hit back — But it’s how hard you can get hit, and keep moving forward. That’s how » Continue Reading
To Those Who Read, Thank You I’ve written more than a hundred poems and blog posts by now — and still, it never feels like enough. I always want to write more. A writer doesn’t speak; a writer writes. Even if people won’t listen, at least they can read and catch a glimpse of what’s inside our hearts and minds. Sometimes i » Continue Reading
DumitriÈ›a, soft as morning light, A whisper carried through the night. A name that dances on the breeze, Like leaves that flutter from the trees. Rooted deep in ancient lands, A story shaped by gentle hands. A melody both » Continue Reading