If only…
The sea had no storms,
The earth never met cyclones,
And clouds spared the exquisite skies—
But that wouldn’t sound right, would it?
It can’t be that easy, can it?
Who gets a free pass on the swing
Without the perfect token?

I smirk to myself,
Eyes wide open,
Reading the universe’s paintings and essays.

No matter how many times
You’ve walked through darkness,
Or stood in hell’s fire—
It doesn’t spare you.
Even if your skin holds a thousand scars,
Pain finds room
In the space between them.

Because here’s the truth:
It doesn’t really matter—
Even when all you asked for
Was simple access to the path.

But honey,
“It” is just warming up
For what’s coming next.

A ride so long,
I stayed still — patiently.
Despite the bumps, the noise,
deep breaths were my only companion.

I looked out the window
from the very first time I hopped in,
and I’ve seen all four seasons since.

At first,
my eyes would sting from the raw sunlight,
my skin would burn as it wept under heat.
Later, when night came,
there was barely an echo —
only paths drowned in darkness
and chills that wrapped the air.

They left me with goosebumps,
my gaze sinking toward my lap,
as my heart quietly shrank.

But there were good times, too —
when skies stretched wide in scattered colors,
when leaves fell gently from trees
and I’d reach up to catch them, one by one.
When the steel in the air
felt like a hug too big to let go.

That — was comfort.

And right now, I’ll wait again to feel that.
It’s okay if it takes longer,
because today,
I can finally sleep under the sun.

Will it really come?
I don’t want to doubt it —
It may take longer…
but seasons never skip, right?

My Rubber Puzzles
It’s killing me.
I thought I did the right thing when I found the piece—
The jigsaw that was already ruined.
A place where I tried to fit,
But it’s broken.
Damaged by hands I never asked for,
Inflicted with pain I never called upon.

The seat is empty—yet I can't sit.
Did you see the list?
Because I was never invited.

So I’m walking away...
Away from everyone,
Away from the light.
Into the rain, into the dark,
Let it hold me tight.

Let the tears stream, just like always.
Thank the skies for soaking me through—
So I don’t have to hide
As I shatter on my way.

Was right at heart,
Real in soul,
I gazed at everything — white and whole.
Each bond lit up with quiet sparkles,
As I wandered through endless marvels.

I walked every road with joy in stride,
Never seeing the tentacles rise.
Meanwhile, I fooled myself to believe,
That every encounter had something to leave.

Because it felt real,
I made vows with zeal —
Each one sacred, each one dear.
And this one,
I held closest to my chest,
Guarding every beating door that once colored my quest.

But oleanders look beautiful too —
Until you touch them,
And they bruise you.
Turns out...
Everyone around me
Was wearing a mask.

At the edge of a playground,
The swings sway empty.
Why can’t I reach them?
The seesaw stands still,
Why do I only watch?

The slide, as if waiting for someone,
Yet here I sit, staring at the emptiness.
Wasn’t this everything I wanted?
The things I used to cry for,
The reasons I pulled back the curtains
And looked out the window,
The silent prayers I whispered.

Then…
What happened today?

Two pillows rest beneath my eyes,
Somber skin, cold — I can’t rise.
A weight I can’t lift, not this time,
Same lessons dressed in shifting lies.

This goes beyond,
A canyon deep and sky-high.
Each inch I climb,
Some force still drains my light.

This beating door was always cracked,
But never wept —
Till betrayal struck from behind,
And left it dust, bereft.

Did I trip?
Why am I always down below?
Why the rock, and never the marble's glow?
No, I don’t crave cloaks spun from gold,
Nor plead for eyes that endlessly behold.

I just wanted a glance —
One that finally looks back.

But answers blur, drowned in my flooded gaze,
Tears drawn by reflections I only meet in shade.
They soak the margins where I left space for peace,
Now I echo to myself, if only for release.

From mother, to every other,
Why can’t I seem to fit in their world — or fill it?