It's common to experience pain as a human,
But sometimes —the pain becames unbearable,
I'm short of words,
The poetic words that draw emotions,
Maybe a little bit numb
Or maybe I'm numb.
I worked so hard to be a failure,
I wouldn't call myself a failure loudly,
Words have power,
But it's hard accepting that my life is in shambles.
"Get good grades," they said
I did,
"Be a good person," I probably was
Am I?
Well I think so.
I did everything they said,
Nothing has come to Life,
"Pray without ceasing," I did
But seems like God forgot me
Everyone is living large,
Doing great,
Then there's me.
What was the hard work for,
If my life doesn't show it,
I am one step away from losing myself,
It's hard.
Friends abandoned me,
For reasons I don't know,
It's too silent,
I can hear my own voice.
Well ,
I'm tired
Feb 12
Feb 12, 2026 at 12:37 PM UTC
The mountain does not count the days,
It breathes in silt and exhales stone.
While empires flicker in a haze,
The granite stands, cold and alone.
The river writes a liquid script
Upon the canyon’s ancient floor,
A thousand years in every crypt,
A thousand heartbeats at the door.
We carve our names in shifting sand
And wonder why the tide returns,
Yet love is not a steady hand,
But the white fire that quietly burns.
So let the clock forget its gears,
And let the stars dissolve to grey;
What we have whispered through the years
The silence cannot take away
Jan 31
Jan 31, 2026 at 12:59 PM UTC
In a world of pain and disappointment
Heartbreaks and lies,
I want to experience an intentional love,
A Beautiful love story written by the stars,
Curated by the slow blue waves of the swahili coastal sea.
A love pure like the moon pathway,
A love that heals a yearner's heart,
A love that glimmers with hope,
A love beyond romcoms, romantic novels.
In this universe that flows life
I desire to experience love that mends a broken heart,
Heal a dying soul,
Resurrect dead feelings And lost hope,
Like a river streaming with the sounds of steady yet powerful waters,
I need a love that's steady yet powerful,
I need my soul awaken from the chambers of death .
Jan 24
Jan 24, 2026 at 1:23 PM UTC
We are not the clothes we wear,
nor the names we were given at the start.
We are the salt in our skin
and the strange, wild rhythm of a heart
that refuses to stop, even when it is tired.
Everything else is borrowed.
The gold, the houses, the heavy opinions of men,
they are just leaves on a moving river.
But the way you looked at the sea,
and the way you held the hand of a ghost,
and the silence you kept when the world was loud,
That is the architecture of your soul.
That is the only thing the fire cannot touch.
That is the light you take with you
when the sun finally decides to sleep.
Jan 13
Jan 13, 2026 at 6:54 PM UTC
It is not the thunder that defines the sky,
but the way the light leans against the hills
at the end of a long, gold-tethered day.
It’s the quiet steam rising from a ceramic cup,
a small ghost of warmth in the morning air,
reminding you that you are here, and it is enough.
There is a kindness in the way the ivy climbs,
not rushing, just holding the stone in a green embrace.
There is a grace in the way we find our way back ,to the books we love, the names that feel like home,
and the soft, rhythmic hum of a heart
that has finally learned how to be still.
May you find the beauty in the "between" spaces:
the pause before a laugh,
the scent of rain on a warm sidewalk,
and the realization that even the smallest spark
is enough to keep the shadows at bay.
Jan 11
Jan 11, 2026 at 3:38 PM UTC
My heart is a ghost in two cities,
haunted by the shape of your name.
In Paris, I seek you in the gray morning mist,
a flâneur wandering streets that feel empty
without the weight of your hand in mine.
I sip my coffee black, bitter as the distance,
whispering je t'aime into the steam,
hoping the wind carries it south.
But my soul ,my soul is in Istanbul.
It is pacing the shoreline of the Bosphorus,
watching the ferries cut through the blue
like a blade through a heavy silk curtain.
There is a hasret ,a yearning that is so deep
it tastes like salt and ancient dust.
I am a dervish spinning in the center of a void,
dizzy with the scent of your neck,
of amber, tobacco, and the rain on the stones.
I do not want a love that is easy or light.
I want the Turkish fire that burns the house down,
and the French silence that lingers in the halls after.
I am waiting for you in the ache between breaths,
where the West meets the East,
and my heart finally meets its rest.
Jan 11
Jan 11, 2026 at 8:52 AM UTC
Allow me to love you like a whimsical word,
One found in the margins of a dusty, old book
Uncommon, melodic, and rarely heard,
The kind that demands a second look.
I want to be the syllable that dances on your tongue,
A soft, phonetic secret that you keep,
Like a lyric from a song that’s yet to be sung,
Or a rhythm that stays while the world is asleep.
I’ll be the stardust in your everyday prose,
The unexpected spark in a quiet line,
Folding my heart where the sentence goes,
Until every letter is yours and mine.
Not a word of burden, or a word of routine,
But a word like luminous or serendipity,
Floating in the spaces and the quiet in-between,
A piece of pure magic in your reality.
So let me be spoken, or whispered, or read,
Let me be the meaning that you finally found,
A whimsical word that goes right to your head,
And lifts both your feet off the heavy ground.
Jan 3
Jan 3, 2026 at 1:10 PM UTC
I am a velvet pocket full of echoes,
craving a light I have not yet tasted.
I want a love that arrives like a gossamer storm,
all stardust and silver-bells,
to rattle the windows of my quiet ribcage.
I seek a bewitchment of the ordinary
to be looked at and truly beheld,
as if I were a secret map
drawn in invisible ink upon the wind.
I am famished for a luminous kind of touch,
one that turns my blood into nectar
and my sighs into sonnets.
Bring me a heart that beats in riddles,
a soul that smells of clove and moon-mist,
for I am weary of the heavy, dusty earth.
I want to be enraptured;
I want to be the moon
tethered to your gravity by a single,
shimmering thread.
Jan 3
Jan 3, 2026 at 2:45 AM UTC
I have memorized you
like a prayer whispered in a burning room.
You are the ache in my marrow,
the silver thread stitched
through the dark of my lungs.
I do not just love you;
I am haunted by the version of us
that hasn’t even happened yet.
If you leave,
I will be a house with all the doors left open,
waiting for a wind
that smells of your skin
to tell me I am still alive.
Even in the silence,
I am screaming your name
into the hollows of my own chest.
Jan 2
Jan 2, 2026 at 5:58 PM UTC
We spend so much of life
just drifting on the tide,
waiting for the "good stuff"
to find a place to hide.
But magic isn’t accidental,
and growth is never a fluke;
it’s the quiet, steady rhythm
of the choices that you make.
In the way you move:
Don't just run to finish,
run to feel the spark.
Let every drop of sweat
be a light against the dark.
In the way you love:
Don't just hold a hand,
hold the soul inside.
Be the shore that’s steady
against a rising tide.
In the way you breathe:
Don't just fill your lungs,
inhale the "here and now."
Stop asking for the when
and start deciding how.
Because a life lived on purpose
is a life that finally wakes.
Be intentional in the giving,
and the space your spirit takes.
Jan 2
Jan 2, 2026 at 4:50 PM UTC