You touched me once
within—
not in this life
but somewhere between
a breath and a prayer
where souls forget
they’ve said goodbye

We never began
We’ll never end

Infinity—
is loving you
in every life
you never lived with me.


Erennwrites

She walks like a flame through a thunderstorm's cry
not to be doused, not even by sky
A tempest herself in a world gone tame—
fierce, untamed, with a whisper of flame.
She’s mischief in silk, wild laughter at dusk
a soul wrapped in lace, old books and musk
Where others would falter, she dances through pain
a lily still blooming in heavy rain.

Her fingers are stained with the colors of the past
lost in a time where slow love could last
She haunts every library’s dust-covered shelf
finding pieces of others, and maybe, herself.
She sips on old stories in candlelit nooks
falling in love with the scent of old books
Rusty cafés, forgotten halls—
her heart beats loud in crumbling walls.

She is not of this world, not quite of this age
a handwritten letter on heartfelt tenders
A lady too late for ballroom grace—
yet too early to vanish without a trace.
She loves like a secret, too precious to name
soft where she trusts, hard when in pain
yet never the same—
to those whom she lets in
she’s fragile, sincere—
a trembling heart behind armor and spear.

But oh, how she still believes in the spark
in moonlit confessions and hands in the dark
Even after the storms and battles she's braved
her lily still blooms in the ruins she saved
So here’s to the fire that will never die—
to the girl who still dreams beneath sorrow’s sky.

She’s every lost poem, every ache lost in name—
a lily that burns in the heart of the rain.


Erennwrites

We were just
two shadows in a field of blue
a white sigh and a black whisper
lost between petals
and the hush of things unspoken
The world didn’t know our names—
but the flowers did.
They watched you lean into me
like a prayer left unspoken.

We danced without music
just the rhythm of glances
the poetry of tilts and tilting heads
at old wooden windows
where time paused—
as if even it was curious
how love could bloom—
from silence.

We saw forever
in a sea of daisies
our backs to the world
shoulders brushing like fragile vows
we dared not speak aloud.
You—
with a heart too quiet
Me—
with one too loud.

And when the sea called
we sat by the edge
on cracked teal concrete
watching ships go by
not chasing them—
just wondering if they carried
the versions of us
who never said goodbye.

Behind brick and bloom,
we hid from the world
but not from each other
Your head touched mine—
so softly,
it rewrote every ache
I thought I had to keep.
Your gaze was the garden
I forgot I deserved.

And if I could choose again,
I'd still be the black night
to your gentle dawn—
not perfect, not always kind,
but always
always,
there.


Erennwrites

We searched the skies for shooting stars
yet never thanked the quiet moon—
'how it stayed
how it prayed'
even when we didn’t.
We mourned the flowers we never held
but not the hands that reached for us
when we were too broken
to feel their warmth.

Rain fell on rooftops like lullabies
and we cursed the weather
never knowing it was—
god’s soft way of asking us to rest.
there were days we begged for signs
for answers wrapped in thunder
yet the silence itself
was an answer—
a mercy wrapped in stillness.

We wrote poems for those who left
but not for the air that stayed
when our lungs gave up,
or traffic that halted our time
so we wouldn't be wounded by—
death's call that compromised
oh, how blind we were
to the blessings that never screamed—
the mother who prayed behind a closed door
the stranger who smiled and meant it
the night that didn’t last forever.

We begged for forever—
but were handed fleeting moments
wrapped in the scent of old rain,
echoing laughter in empty rooms
we never thought we’d miss
we thought love had to arrive
like fire through glass
but it was the scarf left to be found
the door left unlocked
the voice that whispered "I believe in you,"
when even we didn’t.

Look closer.
Sometimes,
what saves you
doesn’t come with a name.
Sometimes,
love never announces itself—
it just leaves the light on
And maybe that
was the blessing all along.


Erennwrites

She was born with bound feet
and dreams too wide for a corset
Her cradle sang lullabies
in tongues no one let her write
A girl made of dusk and dust
beneath ceilings men mistook
for heavens.
she walked the blood-stained bridge
between silence and survival
Her body was not hers—
it was a battleground
a burden, a bargaining chip
She knew hands not by gentleness
but by what they took.

They called it duty
when they bruised her thighs
They called it love
when they hushed her cries
And when she bled
from places stories won’t name
they told her
that’s just what happens
to women who disobey
But still, she stitched stars
into her daughters’ eyes
With broken nails
she peeled hunger from the table
poured the last of herself
into pots and prayers.
She worked farms
with wombs still torn, from childbirth—
and smiled through it
so her sons wouldn’t see.

She yearned for books
but was handed brooms
Letters danced beyond her grasp—
so she taught herself in the dark
behind curtains
while lullabies played over the radio
She listened,
she learned,
she remembered
They told her education was wasted—
on a woman
But she educated the world—
one child at a time.

She wore kebayas stitched with sorrow
hijabs heavy with hope
bonnets and braids
that hid the grief of generations
She held her tongue
so her daughters could speak.
She walked behind
so they could run.
Romance was never all flowers—
it was staying after the beatings
praying he'd change
It was brushing her daughter's hair
while her own still smelled
like a stranger’s breath
But through it all—
she never broke
She bent, she bled,
but never broken

She is the reason we speak freely
learn openly, walk safely—
She is the reminder
How women should be treated
Like a rose but never wilts
That's how women should be


Erennwrites

He told me he’d never grow up—
that forever could live in a laugh
in a stolen night's kiss
and the glint of a lie dressed as stars

He said love was a flight
just follow the second star
but forgot to mention
how hard the landing hurts
when the sky disappears
I thought he was Peter Pan—
wild green eyes, crooked grin
heart full of wind and wonder
But he never fought for me
He never stayed

Real boys don’t fly
They fall
They promise pixie dust
and give you empty hands—
With hope, they say “forever”
like it’s a game of clocks
then vanish in no time
when the rules start to matter
I kept waiting at the window,
hair tangled in moonlight
hope bruised against the sill—
but Neverland was just a name
for the place where he left me

He’s not Peter Pan
He never was

And I—
I was 'Tinker Bell' without the glow
'Wendy' without the voice
just a girl who learned too late
that fantasy is a cruel fate
when it wears the face of someone
you almost loved

And I—
I was the fairytale he never meant to finish,
the story he closed before the ending.
So now I wear my heartbreak
like broken wings stitched in gold—
I don’t fly anymore,
I finally know how to walk away


Erennwrites

Her parents passed on
before she could tie her own shoes,
left with a baby brother
and grief too big for her hands.
Her grandparents gave her love—
soft, steady,
the kind that never asked her to smile.

But the world outside was cruel.
So she built boxes—
safe little spaces
where no one could hurt her.
She painted roses on the walls:
red for anger,
white for innocence,
black for the nights
she cried without sound.

She spoke in riddles,
loved in silence,
and kept her heart
wrapped in thorns.
No one ever stayed long enough
to see the girl inside the box—
still hoping
someone might enter,
and choose to stay.

Until one day,
he knocked—
not to fix her,
but to sit beside her,
quietly.
And for the first time,
she opened the box,
not to hide—
but to let someone in.


Erennwrites