Cannot be mended
No one can fix it
Might as well be blended
To play games with the heart
Deserves a punishment hard
To take what was love
And simply discard
It hurts the daughters
It haunts the sons
Broken hearts
Spiritually done
The heart breaks but once
After that it's gone
Torn apart
Eternally wronged
But woe to the one
The breaker of hearts
The player of games
To hell they depart

My story began like many tales of first love.
You held immense power over me,
First, turning me into a modern-day Cinderella,
Only to cast me aside,
Leaving me in shattered fragments, rattling me to my core,
Shaking the trust and future we had envisioned together.

Yet, from this heartbreak came my transformation from a fallen princess to a radiant queen.
I painstakingly rebuilt myself, layer by layer, to be soft, adaptable, rooted, and compassionate, on a strong foundation of self-love.
Now, I stand tall, radiating the brilliance of my inner light.
Unburdened by anxiety or fear, I fully embrace the new beginning.

My dream world it was —

A castle I built in the sky.

It came crashing down.

Some questions are

answers in itself.

My heart has spoken.

It's your turn now.

Which heartache is worse: failing in love or failing to love? Did you find peace by surrendering to fear - abandoning the spark of your dreams before they even had a chance to begin? Tell me, was it worth it?

26th day of sobriety, of self-respect  
Detox can be spirit-breaking.  
It often feels like a slow death.  
The cravings pulse with each heartbeat,  
leaving you drained,  
urging you to reach out —  
perhaps by texting, sending an emoji,  
Or maybe just "liking" a post
Consumed by the need to stay attached to what is familiar.  

You dwell on old messages,  
waver between memories of sweetness and pain.  
But one day,  
You find the strength to release them.  
You erase the old threads,  
delete the contact,  
and reclaim yourself.  
You might still relapse  
until you learn to recognize the red flags  
and to stand tall in your conviction  
to avoid repeating the toxic cycle.

Up to the trees I go,
Further north where fresh water flows.
Travel preparations with my heart aching,
Home is where I’m free,
Left alone just to be.
Not in this gloomy place,
Not within this heat wave.
Like a pioneer,
I pack my bags,
Leaving behind the places I know,
In search of the places,
Where I’ll grow.