Love isn’t something you can give me in bills,
or count on fingers like something owed.
It’s not measured by bloodlines,
not because we share the same last name.

I don’t need money to know you care
I need your ear, your heart.
Love is the one who feels my ache without asking,
who knows my silence and still stays.

Blood may tie us,
but it doesn’t define love.
I choose the ones who hear my pain,
who see me without pretending to.

The rain sounds like you
soft at first, then heavier,
like the words I never said.

Clouds gather, pressing against my chest,
thick with unsaid confessions.
I hold them in,
tight as the sky before the storm.

Maybe I’ll break like thunder,
spilling everything all at once.
Or maybe I’ll just keep raining,
slow, quiet, unnoticed
but drowning all the same.

I’m falling for you again,
even though you’re miles away,
and I have no idea who’s lying beside you
when the night wraps its arms around you.
But memory, sharp and clear,
still recalls the way your hand
used to rest on my stomach
so gentle, so sure,
like it belonged there.
I’m falling for you,
for something I don’t even know anymore.
I’m falling for a version of you
that’s never coming back.
A memory that keeps pulling me under,
even though I know
it’s a love that ended
before it really began.

I’m falling for the absence of you,
for the space between us
that stretches farther every day,
but still feels too close some nights.
I’m falling for what we had,
or maybe what we never had,
but could have had,
if only the timing was different,
if only we had been who we needed to be.

I’m falling for a memory
that’s beginning to blur,
a love I’m still holding onto,
even though I know it’s fading.
But I can’t let go
not yet, not when it still feels like you’re here.
And maybe, just maybe,
I’m falling for the idea
of what we could’ve been,
even if that idea is all that’s left.

Just because the flower never bloomed,
And the wind carried no trace of its scent,
Doesn’t mean it wasn’t beautiful.

Maybe the season was cruel,
Maybe the sun never reached it,
Maybe it was meant to stay unseen.

But in another time, another spring,
Maybe it will bloom
And we won’t ask if it was ever just a bud.
We’ll know it was always meant to be.

Who told you love had a price?
That you had to earn it, prove it, buy your way in?
Who convinced you that empty pockets
make you less worthy of being held?

Tell me
what kind of love have you known
that made you believe you’re only as valuable
as the money in your hands?

Where did you find these people?
Or did they find you when you were young,
when you didn’t know that love
isn’t something you barter for,
isn’t something you beg for,
isn’t something that leaves when the bills run out?

Let me show you.
Love is staying when there’s nothing to offer but yourself.
Love is waking up beside you, not asking what you can give.
Love is choosing you-not your success, not your status, not your salary
just you.

And if you ever doubt it,
I will walk until my feet blister,
I will stand in the rain, drenched but unwavering,
I will ride the waves, let the tide pull me under,
if it means reaching you
if it means proving that love has never,
and will never,
be something you have to afford.

The autumn tree didn’t betray us,
the grass still grows greener.
Fireflies glisten in the same spot,
the one that was once ours.

But I’ve seen them digging,
carving the earth to build—
a tower, a monument, a future
where our past once stood.

They are changing this place,
shaping it into something new.
And though the fireflies still return,
though the autumn tree stands still-
haven’t we changed too?

I don’t believe in God,
but you made me pray to Aphrodite,
whisper to Venus,
call out to Rati in the dark.
Tell me-who else is left?

Your God forbids it, doesn’t He?
But I would rewrite His laws,
tear down His heavens,
if it meant I could have you.

What must I do?
Tell me-what offering is enough?
Is there a ritual beyond bowing at dawn,
a sacrifice beyond surrender?

Or is He simply deaf?
Does He turn away because He knows
He could never love you
the way I do?