loving with all of one’s heart is not for the faint of spirit.
it can be utterly exhausting to pour light and warmth into a world that rarely extends its hands in return. sometimes it feels as though i’m being drained drop by drop, each act of care siphoning fragments of my own energy, until i’m left hollow and searching for ways to restore what’s been spent—only for the cycle to begin again.
i often wonder if perhaps i’m too kind, if my tenderness teeters on the edge of self-sacrifice. but stopping isn’t in my nature. there are too many souls who deserve to feel the gentleness of genuine care, too many who have forgotten what it feels like to be held with understanding.
so i love, and i love immensely. i want to wrap others in warmth and safety because i know the ache of being cold and unseen. i want to breathe hope into weary hearts so they might remember their worth and keep moving forward.
yet quietly a part of me aches, wishing someone might one day pour into me with the same devotion i give so freely. i yearn to feel the very warmth i offer to others. but until that day comes, i will keep giving steadfastly, so that someone else’s doubts about being cared for might soften and fade into light.
so, i give.
i dream that one day, someone will recognize the way i love; not as weakness, but as the rare strength it takes to keep giving in a world that so often takes. someone who will meet my care with care of their own and see the universe i carry quietly behind my eyes.
love isn’t something i give to be returned. it’s something that lives in me, something that refuses to dim even when it’s met with silence. i’ve made peace with being the one who softens the edges of a hardened world, even if no one notices the hands that do the softening.
i was made to be gentle in a world that forgets softness.
i was made to remind others that light still exists, even when it flickers.
and maybe, one day someone will see that light and recognize it.
maybe they’ll reach for it; not because they need saving,
but because they want to stay.
Oct 19, 2025
Oct 19, 2025 at 11:30 PM UTC
the thing about love that seldom finds its way into conversation is the peril it carries. you surrender fragments of yourself..no, the entirety of yourself into another’s hands, praying they cradle it with reverence. yet what transpires when your devotion becomes suffocating, when the sheer intensity of your affection drowns them until escape feels like survival? they run. and you remain amidst the wreckage, gathering fractured remnants, attempting to reconstruct a semblance of wholeness.
you spiral into relentless rumination.. dissecting every misstep, questioning whether it was you, whether they’ll ever return.
and the cruelty of it all lies in the conviction since i believed with marrow-deep certainty that the two of us got it right this time around.
they said the first fracture cleaves the hardest, and they were not wrong. i wrestle with the storm until my hands are empty; in an instant a cosmos i trusted unspooled into silence. my emotions orbit without chart or tether, a scatter of constellations asking the same questions: do you still trace my name in the dark? do you love me in the quiet spaces between breaths? would you return to salvage what we built? i yearn to know.
my loving was always meant to be a refuge. a delicate harbor where you could unfurl into your truest form, not a rope to bind or a tide to drown you. it was offered to you for shelter from the world’s cruelties as a small, pure architecture of safety but never as something to drive you away. i hope in time you will see it as such. even if you never do, i can’t fault you for that.
just carry this with you like a quiet ember: my love remains and i ache for the day you remember what we once built together.
Sep 25, 2025
Sep 25, 2025 at 1:31 AM UTC
to those who are struggling out loud or in silence, this is for you.
whether you have a broken heart, life is falling apart, you might've failed art, or you're simply looking for a restart--carry on and don't allow yourself to fall apart.
azure skies scintillating above us all when our facades intertwine but nighttime is when the authentic sentiment starts to really shine. and it turns out, you're really not fine. you've been doing this dance of disguise for quite some time now like a second nature routine and falling in between, but you were never really seen. you feel like it'll never get better and **** i know exactly what you mean.
summer dream ripped at the seam, and now you're stifling a frustrated scream as you begin to once again rediscover your self-esteem. i'm here to tell you it's always been there; you just have to scrutinize otherwise this self-deprecation will really result in your demise.
foci laced with confusion as you wonder why you're enduring this circumstance, it's because you stand a fighting chance.
you are a person that struggle will never be able to define. you are so amazing and doing all that you can to overcome your troubles so just like those emotions--you can shine. maybe you aren't now, but you will be fine and i will be cheering you on from the frontline in every given timeline.
life may be hard for all of us, but you are never alone. the weight of life and stress that comes with it is no longer yours to bear. grab a chair so you can sit and stare while i take care of this nightmare since we have no ******* clue how it got there.
it takes a while to repair a wounded heart, so prepare for the long journey ahead and take care.
life is difficult, but none of us have to endure alone. remember to breathe, reach out to your loved ones, and let them take the burden off your shoulders so you can rest awhile.
love always,
katrina
Sep 11, 2025
Sep 11, 2025 at 1:49 PM UTC
she waited for him at the station.
heart full of hope, thoughts full of love and their plans of escaping together. she waited and waited, but not as long as she awaited his loyalty for their promised future.
he waited for the train.
smile on his face; dreaming of her brown pools that pulled him in a trance, stars dancing and twirling within them as did he whenever he got lost in those doe eyes.
the train raced along the tracks, a cool breeze fanning his face as it cruised through until it slowed and finally stopped.
he boarded the train, holding onto the pole and staring at each passing object as the train begins to speed off. the ride just begun, but he had no idea what was in store for him.
the first stop arrived faster than usual, and in it he saw them—in the puppy love stage, where things were rushed but neither he nor her paid attention to it. where in their eyes, neither could do any wrong.
deception in disguise, love in their eyes—but still a bit unwise, to see their soon to be demise.
the second stop comes and this time the train stops abruptly, rather than slowing inch by inch before completely stopping. again, he saw them—but he recognized this stage because it was a scene he was quite familiar with. times are rough and their love is tough, and he wasn’t strong enough to see it through. in her eyes, all that was seen was him. in his eyes was spotted the reflection of another woman.
deception in disguise, his eyes dressed in lies—all she could do is cry, “i don’t want this love to die.”
anxious and filled with guilt, he began to tap his foot in an attempt to calm himself down.
the third stop never had an opportunity to display, for he walked off before he could see what state they were in. he chose this stop, and in it was a world without her. he couldn’t possibly stop his womanizing ways. silly girl, what made her think he would?
his intentions were never to stay with her, in fact this station was close to the next girl’s house.
she waited for him at the station.
unsure if she was waiting for him or his loyalty—in the end, it didn’t matter.
he never came.
Apr 6, 2022
Apr 6, 2022 at 4:52 PM UTC
perhaps it’s not the way she craves love or affliction—or any affectivity for that matter. maybe it’s the thought—the appetite of her colorless imagination being filled with saturated color in which excites her.
the way she can almost taste the colors on the tip of her wet tongue, almost as if she’s been tasting such firmament her whole life: like cinnamon being stuck to your throat or strong whiskey in the morning.
life always throwing punches, the pain becoming habitual and anything different fills her lungs with roses; bittersweet suffocation.
each color has their own analogue, making their way to her mind and she yearns for it. for she has been painting with the same shades for too long.
the blandness and distastefulness makes her almost angry, as her heart colors with red.
however, she knows even if her tongue is dry and her throat becomes closed—those colors shall not come close. those colors—forbidden in her life.
too used to being fed white and black, actual color becomes a stranger who she could only lust over in the twilights nice.
May 7, 2018
May 7, 2018 at 8:57 PM UTC
it is clear how she may echo petulance and malevolence; some do not dare even speak her name. her disposition is coy--almost skittish of those neighboring her. she has made her scar amongst those who have known her over the caducity, confirming a sphinx-like address. those around her relinquish her delicacy, overlooking the placid ancillary that fireworks from the spark of dereliction. concealed within is her saccharine and moonstruck revamped dynamism, a side of her eclipsed by timidity. a side of her remained blemished, terror-stricken, and polluted. a side of her that once was begrudged, is now veiling itself in the deepest ridges of her vitality. on occasion, the nectarous oblique of who she is, exposed. like a deer fresh from the womb, the chaste fragment stumbles into the spotlight--with bambi eyes and tremulous hands; this side of the cocoa skinned girl does not correlate with the scurrilous side that is seen most often. aghast, she falters one foot into her serendipity. almost customarily, the once biddable damsel with only good intentions is propelled into alternative cosmos. what was at once an effrontery and undaunted venomous flower, is now a teetering cherub. although, this side of her adumbrates. the affliction caused on one single fleshly made anthropoid countermands any dose of gallantry she may have had to avow this susceptible and thin-skinned region of whom she is. the propensity is hidden in the hot chocolate that is her eyes--she was always told her eyes are her worst enemy, because they can never seem to distort the truth, despite what her mouth may declare. in her utopia fabricated by her lack of marbles, she is impervious, free from harm, and intact. but she mustn't stay for the blue moon, for she will fall aphrodisiac for the azure she is indulged in. spiraling to the shoal of reality, she is face to face with annihilation of who she once was. a dove-like figure fighting against vexation of soreness. a soul so bleary and bruised, it no longer even fisticuffs in the onslaught. the virtuous side hands over the aptitude, only for the already puissant side to strangle who she is until the altruism fades from her face; leaving her indigo and ruptured. the iniquitous character inside of her vouching championship, snatching the halo from her own head and turning it into a choker. the stainless sidelong is hidden once again, under the arctic snow that was created by her cold heart. buried deep under the flakes of depression and abandonment issues, she lay there freezing and awaiting to be accessible. until then, the bruised up diminutive hides under rage and impatience. waiting, waiting, until someone divides the code that keeps her concealed. time is ticking, salvage her before is cold through and through.
Apr 15, 2018
Apr 15, 2018 at 11:45 AM UTC
like tear drops rolling over plump, curved cheeks; splattered in pink-- the flushed flesh makes the rest of my skin look milkier than usual.
please, do not make me wait any longer.
i abandoned my wonderland for you, discarding my fairy tale and safe haven. i've come down from the comfort of clouds and angel breath to be here—to be with you.
where have you gone?
i don't belong on earth. all things heavenly belong above, wouldn't you agree? i am far too tangible to exist here amongst monstrosity. my existence on this earth is equivalent to a glass figurine meeting pavement; shattering.
unfixable.
oh, how i miss my wings. the entitlement stripped from me each time i reached out for you.. and come to think of it— you were never reaching back.
bloodshot eyes and a quivering chin. “this is not how i left you."
the ruler of the skies informs me, regarding my ethereal body being distraught.
"you were placed here strong—the earth rippled below your feet. fragility was a part of your whole being, of course, but how could you allow it to overcome you? for you are more than just fragile, you are repairable. never broken, only bent."
so you say.
-- ( and the rest is rust & stardust. ) ➶
Mar 2, 2018
Mar 2, 2018 at 5:58 PM UTC
earth was a changed heavenly body the moment her eyelids widened to reveal bambi orbs that were the color of hot chocolate in comparison to freshly fallen snow.
gentle--the way to describe her despite her cold exterior. she is silk. she is a rose garden, just don't forget the thorns. she can make every hair on your body rise with just a simple gaze in your direction. if looks could **** she'd be convicted.
there is something so addictive about her; she sits on your tongue and you can't get rid of the taste she leaves behind. if you could describe her differently, she's the old school television reruns--so familiar yet so nostalgic. there is something about her that's already been here before. her soul is antique and knowing, for she is intelligent with intentions as pure as newborns in a hospital. she is the type of innocence the world knows no better than to assassinate. the first breaths of motherhood; baby's breath braided in her tangle of curls.
there is never too much of her; she's barely around long enough for you to dip your toes in the water. she is an ice berg; cold, uncontaminated, with so much hidden below the surface. her being is a book not many have cared to read, for she is judged by her cover.
she's elevator music; you know her from somewhere and it's on the tip of your tongue, you just can't remember.
her soul has been here a while.
Feb 18, 2018
Feb 18, 2018 at 5:38 PM UTC
here begins the inconsequential tale of the often dazed and disordered galaxy that is myself, a being complied of a disarray of many perplexities that seem to structure this petite framework of a human body, attained with a memory of pablo neruda balladries and an affinity for the convoluted, intricate aspects of life. many of these compositions are latent, obscure pieces that i have chosen to keep undisclosed, however i firmly believe that sharing my expressions and assessments of what i have envisioned through my eyes could be deemed cathartic. consequently, enjoy these chaotic chapters of very extensive yet overtly down-hearted paragraphs and ostensibly compressed sentimental writings; they were all short-lived, yet felt like an eternity when scribbled senselessly into a diary by a hard-headed omission.
Feb 18, 2018
Feb 18, 2018 at 5:27 PM UTC
i remember of the artless days before i had met you and how whenever i went, i'd see a horizon star sewn;
how i could delve into utopian reveries and feel indulged, and how every kiss was a profound violet in bloom. (and how i was repulsed by boys who smoked--despise you for that)
then you came around. it was like every motion and resonance around me flatlined, all flesh faltered into corpses,
but in that virus abraded imagery, there was you:
a flaming grandeur of all that appeals.
you could have titled yourself a heavenly entity between a solely-all greyscale and i would have still believed--
i'd see your face in enthralling outlines before i went to sleep and whenever i spoke, your name gritted the back of my teeth, my bloodstream was fluxes with you written all over it.
went retrograde about it three times and it never passed. you named it cupid's love but i knew better. first blossom of spring and the archers drew their bows, i never saw you again.
i refused to go through the reversal phase; clung to the image of your lips, eyes, the color-enhancing visages that altered my retina, and decided that you were a better victimless ****** than any hit of codeine.
i never did go back.
i see stars but do not see chronology behind them, sleep but never rest, laugh but never with rapture, and anything even barely emphemeral feels like a century.
i'll always pray for heaven to let me back in: whether into culprits' hands or not.
May 13, 2017
May 13, 2017 at 11:45 AM UTC