The Oxford definition of grief is “a very sad feeling, especially when somebody dies” and without experiencing much death, my heart seems to contain an overwhelming amount of grief. Grief is a ballad that hums through my pinna, and ossicles that amplify as the memories seem to retrieve back, back to my throat and back to my head, as my prefrontal cortex struggles to update to the new reality that they are gone. Grief a buzz; buzzing throughout my head senseless of what's happening, failure in distinguishing between the past and the present and all that is filled is the yearning, the ache, the remainder of my incompetent nature and how i discarded the love i dreamt of ; GRIEF. Grief that suffocates me as it resembles the love I pushed away, the dreams I let go of , the desires I relinquished, forfeited, resisted, doubted and retained. Grievance is all I have in my vast little heart, the heart that aches to love and be loved for. Grief rots between my days and leaves a stench that impulses me to recall about the things that cannot be undone. The stench is a scent that I carry myself with, that lingers around every space I fill, every road I take, every room I breathe. It is the echo of my stubbornness, pride and prejudicial nature.
They say grief is an impact of loving and that grieving is a blessing of life. How am i to feel blessed when my heart thumps at the thought of what i lost. How is it that I am fortunate to grieve when there lives a vacant tear that cannot be filled. The tear that sinks me in seconds by seconds. Those who don't grieve don't live. But grieving takes away my hours; my days. Grief blinds me from the beauty of life as it takes me to a corner, the corner that was once was filled with love but now a void, the void I created . So grief holds me a prisoner of guilt and I succumb myself to it and lie there grieving. Now grieving has become so known it's become a solace. I’ve grown a comfort in grieving and immune to the thought that there is more for me.
5d ago
May 29, 2026 at 2:32 AM UTC
my room knows me like no other
for only in my room I'm raw
as i strip my clothes
the room sees the hulk of mass I'm made up of
it sees me bare and naked
it sees the scars i covered with fabrics
it holds the words i left unsaid
the walls, the floor, the ceiling, the bed
the ceiling i stare so blankly
when my eyes are too stubborn to cry
when the world feels heavy the ceiling carries the weight
and i lie in my bed watching the white plaster
with prolonged gawk and hollow heart
with no thoughts, no feelings
just tangles of emotions I'm too scared to straighten
so i retreat into a corner
the corner that fits a twin sized bed
the bed with 3 pillows and white blanket
but the bed is my sanctuary
and the blanket, a bandage
as it wraps the hurt with warm
it embraces all the grief and guilt
and i sink, i cave, i cocoon myself
and i let out the squeals i kept within
the pillows, they soak themselves with my tears
and the blanket cover me from toes to tip
and when the world falls asleep
its just the four walls and the flesh i call myself
so my room is a sacred place to me
its where I'm whole, its where i breath
6d ago
May 28, 2026 at 11:28 AM UTC
The Oxford definition of grief is “a very sad feeling, especially when somebody dies” and without experiencing much death, my heart seems to contain an overwhelming amount of grief. Grief is a ballad that hums through my pinna, and ossicles that amplify as the memories seem to retrieve back, back to my throat and back to my head, as my prefrontal cortex struggles to update to the new reality that they are gone. Grief a buzz; buzzing throughout my head senseless of what's happening, failure in distinguishing between the past and the present and all that is filled is the yearning, the ache, the remainder of my incompetent nature and how i discarded the love i dreamt of ; GRIEF. Grief that suffocates me as it resembles the love I pushed away, the dreams I let go of , the desires I relinquished, forfeited, resisted, doubted and retained. Grievance is all I have in my vast little heart, the heart that aches to love and be loved for. Grief rots between my days and leaves a stench that impulses me to recall about the things that cannot be undone. The stench is a scent that I carry myself with, that lingers around every space I fill, every road I take, every room I breathe. It is the echo of my stubbornness, pride and prejudicial nature.
They say grief is an impact of loving and that grieving is a blessing of life. How am i to feel blessed when my heart thumps at the thought of what i lost. How is it that I am fortunate to grieve when there lives a vacant tear that cannot be filled. The tear that sinks me in seconds by seconds. Those who don't grieve don't live. But grieving takes away my hours; my days. Grief blinds me from the beauty of life as it takes me to a corner, the corner that was once was filled with love but now a void, the void I created . So grief holds me a prisoner of guilt and I succumb myself to it and lie there grieving. Now grieving has become so known it's become a solace. I’ve grown a comfort in grieving and immune to the thought that there is more for me.
May 23
May 23, 2026 at 7:08 AM UTC
i'm so desperate for love
the love i have so much to give
the conversation all planned out
and the way i'd describe you to my kids
i have everything alligned
from where we'd go on dates
to what i'd say anytime there is an awkward silence
punchline all planned
lines perfectly rehearesed in my head
midnight and love letters
and ways i would defend you to my friends
and i know the perfect one will come with time
in the least expected ways
but i dont need perfect just someone
someone i could pour my love
cause i have too much of it
im bleeding of love
and i'm getting to old to be someone's first
Oct 11, 2025
Oct 11, 2025 at 1:14 PM UTC
i wish you spoke
not in silence the way you do,
not in gaps only i seem to fill,
but in words i could tell my folks
without sounding like a fool.
i cannot translate
the way you look at me,
nor the hidden stares,
nor the moment you almost let me in
before you remmembered about the hurt
i cannot translate
the hope,
the yearning,
the unspoken words,
nor the electric hush
so please, my love, use your words
i cannot be the girl almost
not in their eyes,
nor in yours,
nevertheless— a fool no more.
Oct 9, 2025
Oct 9, 2025 at 3:42 PM UTC
if i was dumb
then maybe I'd believe in odds
maybe I wouldn't recognize
when your lips didn't match your words
maybe then I'd have faith
faith in tomorrow
faith that maybe something would change
faith that perhaps you'll take the step
faith perhaps it was just a mistake
but I'm too smart to be fooled
fooled by your so called white lies
aware that yours didn't dilate
when you looked me in the eyes
an educated fool
for acting dumb when i knew the truth
but maybe I should’ve shut my eyes too
let the darkness paint you kind
but clarity is a curse I carry
it burns through every lie I find
********* probably
but ill call it hopeless in love
now I'm used to choosing
whatever is sweeter for you to hear
Sep 17, 2025
Sep 17, 2025 at 2:02 AM UTC
when the air remains untouched by you
I'll stop cutting trees
when you no longer can hear
I'll learn what my word means
when you no longer own the name
I'll call out from near and far
when you no longer have a shadow
I'll search underneath the dark
when you are cold and bare
I'll miss the warmth you sew
when you are six feet under
I'll look above for you
Aug 28, 2025
Aug 28, 2025 at 7:09 AM UTC
and i don't want to be the moon
i want to be a star
how they all are dead
and yet they spark
and spark so big
and light so bright
and all because a tiny hydrogen
decides to collide
Aug 6, 2025
Aug 6, 2025 at 12:16 PM UTC
everybody talks about life. how great and how sad it is at times but nobody seems to elucidate the dread of living your life on sidelines. how painful it is to let every moment slip up for the hopes of it all.
we forget to feel to see to hear to sense in general. the morning rushed and evenings quiet nights hollow and words a burden the expectations shattered, prayers unanswered and wishes that never met this truly all what we possess? and with all that time still ticks and we forget to live those little moments. we are all quite aware that this is our last life, the last breath the last fight so why why are we in such a rush. as a kid restlessly waiting for being a teenager as a teen agitated to become young adults and as young adults dreaming for a quiet tranquil seniority and as elderly craving for the sweet age of innocence and carelessness. this is your life your view your opinions your thoughts your air your breath your words so sink sink in deep feel it intensely declare it profoundly live. and as you are there sinking back in the realm of momentarily funny reels and stuck in the painted picture of others in social media i want you to take a deep breath the deepest you could breath hold it as long as your lungs could possibly could and exhale it as loud as you can immense yourself too and promise promise the little one the little zygote that cried in the embrace of your mother The tiny spark that fed on the umbilical cord—the little zygote that braved the trek through your mother’s ****** to start your story. promise promise you will experience promise you will escapade promise you will embrace promise you will feel and promise you will perceive. promise you will live.
Aug 5, 2025
Aug 5, 2025 at 8:07 AM UTC
its always a step close
and a mile back
one misplaced foot
and a thousand atoms far
an elephant in the room
but we pretended it was just us
one white lie
is all it took to be apart
a question that lingered
that we never dared to ask
a story that was never read
we judge covers too fast
walking on blind path
with hopes that never really lasts
visioning the future
with the faintest of light
but the future will never come
even the brightest stars die
Aug 3, 2025
Aug 3, 2025 at 8:42 AM UTC