She was 'Autumn'—
warm, but always leaving
A soul stitched from golden light
and goodbyes she never stopped grieving

He was 'Winter'—
quiet, distant,
carving silence into the world
like someone used to resistance

They met
in the blur between late November
when leaves forget to hold on
and snow begins to remember
She smiled like the last fire in a cabin
He stared like someone who knew
the cost of warmth
and what it meant to lose it too soon

She spoke in colors—
scarlets and golds
words that cracked like twigs
but healed like poems never told
He answered in stillness
like frost on glass,
afraid that every touch
would make him shatter at last

But even frost can soften
Even storms can learn to stay
And slowly
she didn’t run
and he didn’t push her away
He let her fall apart in his arms
like leaves too tired to pretend
and she let his cold truth hold her—
not to fix
but to mend

They didn’t belong—
not in the way seasons are told
but somehow, in the ache of each other
they began to unfold

And there
in a world where nothing was meant to last
where autumn leaves and snowflakes
both belong to the past—
they built something quiet
something unknown—
a rhythm,
a whisper,
a heartbeat for a home.


Erennwrites

The train hums like a memory
soft and slow through time—
a moment caught between gazing days
we lost, and hope we move forward.

Scenes flicker through the windowpane—
a mother’s wave, a lover’s stare
a strangers stealing glances
but never the courage to speak.

We travel fast, yet feel so still
in silence, we are seen—
as glances bloom like fragile love
in places we have been.

And maybe time is not a line
but tracks we ride again—
The train moves on
your soul intact, your past in every pane
each stop a reminder, each start a chance
to feel, to fall, to mend.
And every stop—
a chance to choose
To lose or love again.


Erennwrites

You bloom in places pain once lived—
soft, stubborn, beautifully brave

You laugh like nothing ever hurt,
then cry like everything did

You trip, you rise,
you call it clumsy—
'I call it love at first sight'

You're not just strong
You're a tulip in a thunderstorm,
Still choosing to bloom
Still choosing to love.


Erennwrites

They taught us to blink the salt in—
that tears are currency for the fragile
and we must never spend
To lead, you must clench your jaw
crack your spine straight like scripture
and let the pain nest in the lungs
where no one sees.

We became statues with glass eyes
shined and bulletproof
Even grief feared our silence.
We held funerals in our throats
prayers sewn shut behind polite smiles
and called it strength—
this ache that made us godlike
this discipline of drowning
without making a sound.

But the body remembers
The body always does
It will drag your sorrow
into the marrow of your bones
weave sorrow into sleep
turn breaths into broken glass
and eyelids into knives.

Somewhere between
“I’m fine” & “I don’t feel anything anymore,”
we vanished—
a thousand storms swallowed
by skin that refused to leak.
No one taught us that tears
weren’t weakness—
they were rain.
They were the only thing
keeping the garden of us
from withering in silence.
But we were too busy being strong
to water ourselves.

We led by example—
held our cries
so others could sleep through the night.
But in doing so,
we buried the child in us
with lullabies made of restraint.
And what a cruel lie it is—
to teach the brave not to bleed,
to crown the silent as heroes,
while their hearts rot quietly
in the dark.

Even the moon
cracks under it's own light
Even steel weeps
when the fire lingers too long

So cry—
Let them cry.
Let the sky split.
Let the flood rise.
It is not weakness
to feel too much—
It is survival
To feel at all.


Erennwrites

I wasn’t born a poet,
but your silence turned into verses
in the pauses between your laughter
I never meant to memorize your face—
yet it lives behind every closed eyelid
tender as the hush before a kiss.

You wore the rain like a sari of stars
and when you looked back that one time
I forgot my name.
Your anklets were verses
my heart dared not write—
too sacred, too soft
too much like something I'd ruin
by touching.

I never knew love
until it sat beside me
on a red bicycle
hair flying
as if time could be outpaced
by innocence.

I never wrote a line before you
But now I write in the rhythm of your leaving
And every rhyme I never learned
now aches in the shape of you.

I wasn't a poet—
not until you looked at me
like I was worth remembering

And now when they ask me
why the moon feels closer
when I speak your name
I only smile and whisper—
"I am not a poet
But oh beautiful one
Ever since I saw you
I have started writing poetry."


Erennwrites

She hiccupped in the middle of a sentence—
like a comma her body forgot to hide.
A tiny sound, a flutter, a skip—
and suddenly, the world tilted on its side.
She covered her mouth,
cheeks painted rose,
as if embarrassed that her heart
was speaking in Morse code.

'"I swear it only happens when I’m nervous,"'
she said, eyes darting like fireflies in June.
But he just smiled—
like it was his favorite song out of tune.
Another hiccup.
Then two.
Then three.
Like kisses falling out accidentally.
She groaned. He laughed. She turned away.
He said, “You hic like a poem trying to stay.”

He offered water, she shook her head.
He whispered, “Maybe you need love instead?”
She rolled her eyes but let it slide,
as hiccups danced and time complied.
And in that pause between her little startles,
he found stars tucked behind her dimples—
how her hiccups made her human, soft,
a little wild, a little lost.

He wanted to bottle that sound,
like a keepsake of her clumsy grace—
the way even her stutters
found rhythm on her face.
They say love speaks in circles—
roses, rain, or setting suns.
But his came in half-held giggles,
in hiccups that never quite let her run.

So the next time she hic, and cursed the air,
he leaned in close, tucked a strand of her hair—
and whispered with a smile too wide to ignore,
“Every hiccup just makes me love you more.”


Erennwrites

Kata orang, jiwa yang ditakdirkan
tak selalu bertemu di musim bunga—
kadang mereka bersua dalam runtuhan
dalam perit luka yang hampir sembuh
di antara senyap dua jiwa yang pernah patah

Kau hadir bukan seperti guruh
tetapi seperti dendang yang lama ku lupa
suaramu—
bahasa yang tulangku sudah mengerti
senyumanmu—
pintu yang pernah ku mimpikan
jauh sebelum aku berani mengetuk

Kita tak berselisih
Kita teringat
Seperti bintang lama yang masih berkedip
seperti hujan yang mengulang jejak di jendela
yang pernah dikenalnya dalam dunia lain

Saat kau genggam tanganku nanti
ia bukan sekadar hangat—
ia kenangan
Dari ribuan malam yang telah kita lalui
di kehidupan yang lebih lembut
di mana kau tak pernah perlu pergi
dan aku tak perlu menunggu

Aku menyayangimu sebelum aku tahu wajahmu
Dan saat aku akhirnya menatapmu
aku menangis—bukan kerana bahagia
tetapi kerana segala hayat
yang pernah ku cari
dan tidak menjumpaimu

Kita adalah sedih di balik lagu lama
alasan rasi bintang enggan pudar
nama yang laut bisikkan
pada bulan yang selalu diam

Dan walau dunia melupakan kita
walau di hayat seterusnya kita hanya bayang
jiwaku tetap membawa lukamu
dan degup nadiku
akan sentiasa satu detik lambat
menunggumu menyusulnya

Kerana saat semesta menulis namamu
ditulis juga namaku di sebelah—
bukan dengan dakwat
tapi dengan kerinduan
Selamanya.


Erennwrites