Blocked. In that moment, it felt like the world was crashing down around me. I wondered if our paths would ever cross again, praying that maybe, just maybe, you might change your mind. Every connection to you vanished, leaving only the pictures behind. I’m not angry, not even a little. I understand that you feel this is the only way to find space. It’s your instinct to run, and it’s mine to chase, even if every path leads to a dead end. The silence of the room feels deafening now, no notifications, no sound of your voice, just my thoughts, growing louder by the second. Being without you is like gazing at a night sky lit only by the moon, the stars nowhere to fill the void. It’s like hearing your favorite song with missing lyrics, wanting to sing along, but it doesn’t feel right. I know you don’t need me here, but I want to be. I wanted to be your anchor in the fiercest storms, the ears that listened to every worry, the heart that healed with yours. Push me away, shut me out as many times as you need, just as long as you come back. My love for you transcends every wall, every barrier, every goodbye. Even if this truly is the last one, you’ll always have a place deep within my heart and soul. I’ve grown with you. And while I may not be the best version of myself, you’ve made me better. Your touch has healed pieces of me that I thought were irreparable, fragments broken by years of hurt and trauma. You deserve peace, happiness, and pride in who you are. Even if we never speak again, I hope one day you’ll see yourself the way I see you: extraordinary, strong, beautiful, and irreplaceable. I hope this isn’t the end as my love for you is eternal. Even when the candle burns out, its remnants can be molded into something lasting, something strong. And so will my love for you remain, shaping itself into eternity.

A lover boy, not destined for real love. He holds love like grains of sand, slipping through his fingers no matter how tightly he clings. Each touch, a fleeting promise; each gift, fragile yet profound. Yet nothing stays, everything shifts away, dissolving into the ether. Every heart he’s held, every vow whispered, felt like the final door, the last chance. But love, to him, is like thin air, a bond of whispers that scatters before it can take root. His world is built on trembling ground, every shot to the heart threatening to bring it down. Each kiss plants gardens, only for them to wilt before they’re truly found. Hands reach for him, yearning for the warmth he carries, but all that lingers is his name, murmured into the night. At first glance, love blooms, sweet and sacred, a delicate dance of entwined souls. He gives all of his borrowed light, yet shadows creep through the cracks. No matter how hard he tries to stay, the tide pulls love from his grasp. The warmth of his touch fades; his love, no matter how pure, never seems to hold. He’s a witness to his own heartbreak, time and time again, a love wilting before its prime. Each time, he assures himself, ‘this one will be different’, but the truth remains elusive. Perhaps his heart is wreathed in thorns, unfit to be held or owned. Yet deep within, he longs for a love that roots itself firmly, weathering even the fiercest storms. But for every wall he builds, cracks form in the mortar. The weight of love bears down until all collapses into dust, leaving behind the remnants of broken trust. He wants to stay, to hold on, but love always seems to come with chains and whispers of fear. It vanishes the moment he reaches for it. And when love leaves, he mourns not only its loss but the life it promised, a life of unwavering devotion, never truly begun. Every soul he’s hurt carries that pain, stretching across time like an echo of his own sorrow. If only standing still, planting his feet, could anchor the love he holds so dear. But every time he tries, it slips away, a sun disappearing over the horizon, leaving emptiness in its wake. He’s not meant for what others dream of: the steady fire, the gentle stream. His heart burns brightly, a beacon in the night, but the love it craves is always just beyond his reach, a fleeting flame, extinguished by the winds of fate.

I write of love, my words soft as blooming flowers, outshining the silence. They drink from my verses, offering praise, yet never seeing through hollow eyes. They trace my ink with their pens, searching between the lines, yet always missing the rot woven into the rhymes. I only ever meant to heal, to imagine a world that would never falter. But as echoes tremble and shatter, the voices grow louder in my wake. Hearts lie broken along my path, split and bruised, marked by both my hands and the words I chose. The tales I spun, the dreams I wove, just layers of silk concealing the screams of the past. Each whispered line, each lullaby sung, was a betrayal wrapped in delicate deception. I thought I gave my all, shining bright, yet I only ever left them shattered and cold. A poet’s sin, unknowingly blind. Now, the weight of it all is too much to bear, even my own hand too heavy to hold. The ink thickens, choking the page, my verses darkened by buried rage. I once believed myself gentle, kind, a guiding light for even the quietest of minds. But I was blind to the wounds I inflicted, to the trust I fractured, left to wither in the dark. Each tear they shed, I was the reason why. I swore I loved, I swore I cared, yet I was the reason they were afraid. I was begged to change, yet failed to see where the cracks needed mending. Blind to the truth, I led them further away. And now, regret clings to me like a ghost, whispering of what could have been, of a future where things might have been okay. Every poet holds a secret, buried deep within their lines, whether the ink glows faint as a whisper or bleeds dark as sin.

Does your heart still feel like it did in August, a time when every word trembled with the weight of goodbye? When your tears fell like a relentless storm, and every poem you wrote ached with the words you couldn’t speak aloud. Do those words still linger in your heart, etched deeply, or have they begun to fade? Do you still hold me close in your thoughts, or has your grip loosened, like sand slipping through your fingers? Do you still ache for me in my absence, the way you once did when the thought of being apart was unbearable? I’ve read every poem you poured your heart into, each one pulsing with a love so fierce it refused to let go, even when the cracks in our love threatened to break us. Even goodbyes felt incomplete, as if our bond couldn’t truly be severed. But now, I’m left wondering, has time softened your love? Does the thought of me still burn as brightly in your chest, or have the flames dimmed, the fire fading to embers? Has your love for me grown or faltered? I find myself asking: Does your heart still feel like it did in August? Do you still love me with that same depth and intensity?

This bed was made for two, yet it still feels empty without you. The sheets twist and tangle, much like the echoes of our laughter that once filled this space. These pillows, once cradling our heads, now hold only the ghosts of whispered secrets. Your warmth fades too quickly, replaced by a cold that lingers in silence and longing. Moonlight spills through the blinds, tracing the spot where your touch once rested. I find you in my dreams, but like the tide pulling away from the shore, our love slips beyond my grasp. This bed, meant for two, stretches wide and hollow, like a map of the moments we once traced upon it together. And no matter how deep I sink into the mattress, it will never feel full without your embrace.

Why do I feel this way? Am I crazy? Maybe I’m manipulative, just like she says. Maybe I’m so far gone that I can’t even recognize it anymore. I’d like to believe I’m not, but doesn’t everyone think that about themselves? What if I hate them so much because, deep down, I’m just like them? You point out things I do, and in my mind, I rationalize them, they make sense to me, but isn’t that exactly what a crazy person would do? I don’t want to feel this way. My thoughts are racing, tumbling over each other like a runaway train, unstoppable. What’s happening to me? Why can’t I make it stop? I shouldn’t unload this on anyone else. She doesn’t deserve it, not her, never her. She doesn’t, she doesn’t, she doesn’t. I swear I try to listen, I do listen, wait, what did she say again? Why am I dredging up things from the past? I tell myself it’s to prove my point, but is it? Or am I just pinning her down under the weight of it all? I wanted to make us better, to help us grow. But what if I’m not doing that? What if I’m the one dragging us both down? A faint noise catches my ear. It’s nothing, just the wind, but my mind spins, what if it’s not? What if he’s back? What if he’s here to finish what he started? It’s not fair. I tried. Didn’t I try? Maybe I should’ve tried harder, been better, when she needed me most. Now, I’m shaking, suffocating under the crushing weight of my own thoughts. Am I crazy? I feel crazy. I can’t stop this spiral. I can’t distract myself. I can’t even remember the last time my mind was still, when I could truly let go. I count the seconds, one by one, waiting for the inevitable. Why?

Someday, I will die. No matter how long I try to postpone it, my life will come to an end, not in a blaze of glory or a thunderous finale, but in a quiet stillness, like the tide slipping back into the sea. But before that day comes, I will have lived, not just existed, but truly lived. I will have laughed and cried over things both deeply meaningful and entirely trivial. I will have held silence in my hands and shaped it into peace. I will have known pain, not once or twice but endlessly, and though the wounds may not fully disappear, I will have healed enough to rise again. I will have looked into the mirror, sometimes despising the reflection, sometimes marveling at the strength behind my own eyes. I will have carried grief, heavy and necessary, shaping me into something real. I will have failed, publicly and privately, but never stopped trying, not because I had to, but because something inside me refused to give up. I will have learned to forgive myself, not with dramatic proclamations, but with small, quiet choices to keep moving. I will have loved, imperfectly but wholeheartedly, and even when heartbreak came, I will have walked away with trembling hands and a lifted head. I will have created things, maybe odd or unimpressive, but they’ll be mine, understood if only by me. I will have stayed up through the night, whispering truths into the dark, staring up at the stars until they whispered back. I will have grown and changed into someone I never imagined, and I will have let go of things I once thought I couldn’t live without. And when the final moment comes, I hope I don’t claw at the pages, desperate to rewrite the past, but instead smile, knowing every line, even the painful ones, mattered. Someday my story will end, but I won’t disappear. I will echo in everything that made me, me.

Why is love both breathtakingly beautiful and heartbreakingly painful? Like a rose in full bloom, its vivid colors dazzle the eyes, and its petals unfold to reveal hidden beauty. Its fragrance can draw in even the most guarded, yet its thorns pierce deeply when mishandled, reaching places where secrets lie. Love is the sweetness of honey on soft, inviting lips, intoxicating and delightful, yet overwhelming if taken without care. It’s a songbird soaring through the sky, its melody gracing the world below, until its wings are clipped, turning songs into sorrowful cries. Love is the ocean, vast and endless, with tides that caress softly before transforming into crashing waves that overwhelm. It’s the gentle kiss of the sun, warming the soul on a cold day, but lingering too long, it burns the unguarded. Like a blazing fire, love burns brightly, illuminating everything around it, but left untended, it can consume all in its path. It’s the joy whispered while gazing into your stormy gray-blue eyes, a joy that gives way to an aching longing that echoes like thunder in its absence. Love, it seems, is a force that creates and destroys with every breath we take. So, hold that glass of wine delicately, savor its sweetness before it turns bitter. Grip it too tightly, and the shards may cut deep. Love is both bitter and sweet, a fleeting perfection that we are destined to encounter, again and again.

I have a reckless habit of diving headlong into love. I’m the one who leaps without hesitation, casting aside caution and leaving my heart unguarded. No walls, no moats, no watchful sentinels, just an open door, waiting to be crossed. When your love called to me, I rushed toward it, drawn like waves to the shore or roots to fertile earth. I don’t fear the fall or falling short; the plunge itself is where life resides. My heart, a glowing ember, yearns for a spark, igniting into a fire of passionate desire. I crave connection, the touch, the intimacy, the raw beauty of love in all its ebb and flow. I’ve always understood the risks. Each whispered confession carries the weight of uncertainty, the chance that these feelings may not bloom. Yet I leap anyway, without regret, without armor. Vulnerability is my compass, for only through openness can I embrace the fullness of love’s offerings. And even if I emerge bruised and broken, it’s within those ruins that the art of love is most vividly painted. Call me reckless if you will, or a fool. Perhaps I am. But I would rather dive in with abandon, drowning in the depths and soaring in the heights, than live without ever truly loving. To love fully, to risk everything, is to truly live before I die.

The worst part of it all is that I can’t even recognize the depth of my own flaws. I beg for forgiveness, but the same destructive habits rise up once again. Why can’t I change? I try over and over, sifting through the past, searching for the root of what needs to be fixed. But every time I think I’ve grasped it, it slips away, sinking back into the soil, just out of reach. The more I struggle, the further it moves from me. What am I doing wrong? I can’t seem to understand. The guilt tears at me, a gut-wrenching pain swelling in my chest as I hear how I’ve hurt you. Each day brings a new argument, one that never seems to resolve. I can handle the fights, as long as I get to keep you, but it doesn’t change anything; you just seem to drift farther away. I want to meet you in the middle, to make the effort, to bridge the gap, but it feels like the distance between us only grows. Every misstep, every harsh word, every mistake adds to the void. I just want to fix it, to end the pain, and to grow beyond this darkness inside of me.

Don’t tell me you love me if the weight of who I am makes you flinch. If the fractured parts of me send you running instead of reaching. You say your heart is mine, but only when it’s effortless, when I’m glowing, when I’m easy to love, when I’m bleeding quietly behind a proud smile. Where were you when I shattered in silence? When my eyes pleaded for even the smallest reason to stay afloat? You’re in love with the idea of who I could be, the version that doesn’t question, that doesn’t ache, that asks for nothing. But love doesn’t live in words. It lives in quiet hands pulling someone closer when walking away would be easier. So don’t say you love me if you can’t stand still when the fire starts. If you vanish when things get real, it’ll hurt less to let you go. Maybe you never loved me, just the echo of someone I never was.

Hey there, beautiful. What’s it like in that bright city? I’m a thousand miles away, yet even tonight, your beauty shines as vividly in my mind as the stars above. Not even the northern lights can compare to you. Hey there, baby. Don’t worry about the distance, our souls are still entwined, our hearts beating in perfect rhythm. Just close your eyes, listen to my voice, and imagine me by your side, whispering all the love I carry for you. Hey there, my love. I know things have been hard, but believe me—one day, we’ll close this distance. We’ll build the life you’ve always dreamed of, and our love will be more beautiful than we ever imagined. Hey there, honey. I have so many more words left to write, endless poems woven just for you. If every verse could make you love me even more, I’d write forever—falling deeper, sinking further into your heart. A thousand miles may feel like an impossible expanse, but I’d listen to the hum of trains, the soaring of planes, I’d even walk until my legs gave out, just for the chance to hold you again, to feel the warmth of your skin. Doubt may creep in, and people may laugh, but we’ll smile through it all—because I have never felt a love so true. And baby, I promise you this: no matter how long it takes, no matter how much the world may change, I will find my way back to you. Hey there, love. I hope my words find their way to you, carrying all the love I feel. One day, this distance will be nothing more than a memory. And when that day comes, I’ll finally get to say: This is where I’ll forever stay.

I want to be held, just once, deeply. Wrapped tight in arms that feel careful and sure, holding me like something precious. I need the weight of someone’s warmth anchoring me, grounding my soul against the pull of empty rooms and silent nights. Shadows have learned my name; they call to me, and I need a voice to answer them, someone to whisper back to me, comforting me as I spill out my dreams, my lost hopes. To trace the lines left by my fears, to smooth the scars hidden under my skin. To be held by comfort itself, stitching up the wounds, letting healing come slow. Someone who’ll listen as I release the secrets buried so deep they’ve become part of me. I want to be held, just once, close enough to drown the silence in the sound of your heartbeat.

Who am I? I feel adrift, lost in an endless sea of nothingness. This doesn’t feel like my family anymore. They no longer need me, life has carried them forward, leaving me behind. I feel stranded, unmoored, just a distant fragment of their past. The relentless tide of time has swept them away, while I remain frozen, anchored in place. This house, once alive with laughter and warmth, now echoes with memories of a life I barely recognize. Each of them has moved on, their chapters turning, their stories evolving. I don’t blame them for leaving me behind, but the emptiness weighs heavy. It’s been so long since this truly felt like a family. Now, all that’s left are shadows, slipping just beyond my grasp. Am I a relic? A fading remnant of what used to be? I reach for them, but the distance between us is insurmountable, a chasm carved by time, widening too quickly for me to cross. While their lives tick forward, mine stands still, stagnant and silent. I ache for purpose, for a place to belong. A void stretches within me, yearning to be filled. Perhaps one day I’ll find the shore I’ve been seeking, a place to rebuild, to heal, to feel whole again. For now, I watch as they drift further away, my soul burning in place like a solitary beacon. Through this endless night, I remain, lost yet hopeful, waiting to one day be found.

I say I hate you, but it’s a lie, and I’m sorry for it. There could never be a moment where I truly despise you, not even if I summoned all my will to try. It’s not you I loathe, it’s the storm you’ve left raging inside me. I hate the rawness you carve into me, the way your absence coils tight around my chest, stealing my breath and smothering the air. I hate how I sit here waiting for you, silent and small, hoping with every fiber that your name will light up my screen again. I want you to text me, to give me the chance to tell you about the way the sunlight hit perfectly today or to share the words others have spoken to me. I want to tell you how I can’t stop thinking about you, how I ache for you to be here. But part of me wants you to push me away, to block me, to tell me I’m unworthy. To say I’m awful, that you can’t stand the thought of me. Maybe then, I’d have permission to stop craving you, stop needing the space you fill so effortlessly. I hate you. I hate this. But really, I’m lying. I miss you. I love you. And that, more than anything, is what I hate most of all.

We are interlinked. I feel as though we are interwoven, our souls stirring in the darkness of night, bound together beneath the twinkling stars. Our thoughts are like a spider's web, intricately woven until strong and unbreakable. In the silence that fills the room, we shine with a shared light. Your mind mirrors mine, revealing truths with every glance. We are like Sirius, eternally orbiting each other, each thought you have leaving a trace within me, echoing deep in my sacred space. As we drift through time, our hearts forge a single rhythm, sharing the same heartbeat, an endless dance with no end. When you dream in REM, I feel them within me, and your laughter fills my being with joy. We speak in whispers, in silent notes, hardly needing words at all. Our love is a boat floating forever on a vast ocean, each wave carrying us forward. I feel every emotion with you - your joy, your hidden pain. I wipe away your tears with my thumb, feeling them as my own. The love we share is boundless, like an infinite ocean, and we sail together endlessly. Every breath I take carries a piece of you, every step I make in the sunlight casts your shadow beside me. In your embrace, I find wholeness, and our hearts beat together in perfect harmony. We need no words when we're together; all we need is each other. With every heartbeat, our worlds merge into one. All fears vanish when I gaze into your eyes, where I see the universe laid out before me. This connection is deep and true, and I am forever lost in thoughts of you. It’s as if we act as one, sharing the same thoughts, actions, and feelings. Even if our story were to end, nothing could break the bond we have. We are interlinked.

I know I shouldn’t. Logic wages a steady battle, reason standing firm, but desire roars louder, wild and relentless. If you were to so much as text me, my fingers would fly to the notification before my heart could catch its rhythm, answering without a moment’s pause. That soft glow of a message lighting up my dark room would feel like it’s illuminating my soul, flooding me with a dangerous kind of pleasure. If you called, I’d only pause to steady my breath, to mask the trembling in my voice, the longing hidden in that first fragile “hello.” Every word I speak would slip through the cracks of the dam I’ve tried so hard to build, spilling out in a stream of quiet yearning. I know I shouldn’t, but you’ve always had this way of unraveling me. You’re the melody I can’t forget, the gravity that holds me no matter how far I try to stray. And if you wanted me, I’d be yours again, without question, without hesitation. Over and over, for eternity.

And just like that, it feels like I’ve lost my best friend. No grand goodbye, no final stitch in the quilt of our time together, just emptiness where you once were. You’re not truly gone, just out of reach, yet everything we shared has slipped away. Every late-night game, every conversation about nothing and everything, just to hear your voice, now they’re only echoes, tainted by your absence. No game feels the same without the one I played it with. You taught me to grow, to love deeply, to mature. We built our own worlds, believing our love was endless, untouched by time. We laughed in the darkness, whispered lies in Salem, set towns ablaze. We ran for our lives, doing anything to save each other before daylight. We tamed beasts, explored new lands, built walls around our home. You mined, I crafted, together we created something that felt unbreakable. But even the strongest diamonds don’t last forever. We watched movies, tore through episodes of shows, filled the silence with laughter and jokes we never could keep to ourselves. But love is no armor, it’s no invincible shield. It shatters in hands that can’t bear the weight of pain. Now, I lie here, retracing our steps, searching for pieces of us in everything around me. I wake in the middle of the night, reaching for you, still lost in a dream. But this stuffed animal you gave me will never be you, and the silence will always be deafening. As quickly as you came, you were gone. Just like that, I’ve lost my lover.

Two poets, each with a distinct soul, shape similar sentiments in different forms. He dreams in paragraphs, broad and expansive, like clouds stretching across an endless sky. His words dive deep, exploring the hidden caverns of life’s stories. She, in contrast, dreams in lines, each one crashing with the precision of a wave. Every word is chosen with care, her stanzas offering brief yet vivid glimpses of a heartbeat. Her verses flow like a gentle whisper, artfully capturing emotions on display. Their forms may be distinct, yet their themes converge: love, loss, and longing, woven into words. They share their work openly, baring their hearts in a space where emotions find resonance. Each sentence pulses with passion, laughter, and stolen glances, their connection sparked from the very beginning. Together, they transform the stillness of night into shared moments, each word a bridge into the other’s world. As they read each other’s lines, each word becomes a cherished fragment. Their hearts, poured onto the page, collide and merge within the ink of their souls. Two poets, entwined, seek to understand the intricate design of love, its gentle, complex beauty. Each line written, every paragraph crafted, reveals their shared exploration through the labyrinth of love and uncertainty. Hand in hand beneath the starlit sky, they craft a story uniquely theirs, blending two beautiful voices into one. Who could have foreseen it? A poet of paragraphs, a poet of lines, falling in love with a beauty all their own.

I’m not okay with loving you from a distance, but maybe love was never meant to be held so close. Perhaps the purest form of love is knowing when to let go, before we unravel each other thread by thread. Maybe the space between us will heal the scars we left behind. Maybe the silence between our glances is gentler than the weight of words unspoken. The nights stretch on like the miles between us, do you feel it? The absence, the ache, the closeness of what almost was. I stand at the threshold of our past and future, one foot in the memories we shared, the other in a future we may never touch. Were we anything more than two souls reaching, running along the outline of something that no longer exists? There’s not enough distance to forget, yet too much to reach you. I watch the tide rush in, wondering if I fought against the current, would you come ashore with me, or would you drift further into the deep? Would we unravel completely, or could we weave ourselves into something new? But maybe love is knowing when to stop reaching. Maybe it’s recognizing that we gave all we could and stepping back before we lose ourselves entirely. I’m not okay with loving you from afar, but maybe distance is the only thing keeping us whole.

Maybe I wasn’t made to be loved, at least not in the soft, quiet way that sunlight slips through a window, warming the air as it gently stirs the morning awake. Maybe I’m the kind that comes alive in the dead of night, like a storm crashing against the sea, fierce, unrelenting, too wild to stay. I’ve tried folding myself into arms not shaped to hold me, twisting like origami into spaces that never fit. I’ve written lullabies hoping to soothe, only to be met with silence, like they were never heard at all. It’s not that I don’t feel love, I feel it deeply. But I give until I overflow, until the pressure builds and the dam breaks, leaving ruins where something beautiful used to be. Maybe I wasn’t meant to be someone’s peace. Maybe I was meant to be the ache they carry in their chest, the lesson, the turning point, the reminder of what they didn’t realize they had until it was too late.

Time. Slow down just for a moment. I’m chasing after you, desperate not to be left behind. Every second slips through my fingers, no matter how hard I try to hold on. I beg for more, but you only drift further away, gripping my collar as if to drag me onward, ready to let go and leave me behind if I hesitate. Life rushes me through unfamiliar doors, past places I can’t recognize, shedding pieces of myself along the way. Each tick of the clock stirs my fears, a reminder of all that’s slipping away. Hours vanish in the span of a blink. I’m trying, pushing forward, stumbling blindly through the years, fighting to become someone better, grasping for strength. I’m finally seeing my faults, glimpsing my chance to grow, struggling to make up for the seconds wasted and the opportunities missed. But how am I supposed to heal when you haunt my every step? Just one moment, that’s all I need, to catch my breath, to mend the cracks, to become who I long to be. But my pleas go unanswered as you run faster, slipping out of reach. The nights echo with your ticking, a metronome of loss. Dreams once within reach now lie shattered. Can we pause, even briefly? Just let me stand still as you rush by. I need more of you, Time, to keep learning, to keep trying. But somehow, I know there’s not much left.

They are madly in love, but that love seems to drive them to madness.  Time has passed, each moment filled with efforts to make things work, but inevitably, they end up right back where they started, fighting. They love so deeply, opening parts of each other once kept dormant. They were probably never meant to be, deep down she feels like that are not right for each other, and sometimes he begins to think it’s true. Shes mad that he can’t just leave her alone, where is the space she has always pleaded for? He’s mad that the time away from her feels like a piece of him has been torn away, how could you love someone and still yearn for the distance? Her love burns like a fire, needing air to fuel its brightness, yet yearning for space to avoid being suffocated. His love flows like a river, a constant current that needs something to pull against, requiring a connection to stay alive. Each passing moment only draws them closer, their hearts in sync, an invisible thread weaving them together. But this symphony of emotions becomes harder to bear, as if his love is an unstoppable force, and hers an immovable object, each pulling in different directions. Perhaps she’s not ready for this kind of relationship, or maybe he was never meant for one. Yet, the harder she pulls away, the more desperately he holds on. The waves may crash, and the buildings may fall, but beneath the rubble, they stand, planning to rebuild. Their love drives them to the edge, unsure of what comes next. She craves time to breathe, space to settle, while he longs for reassurance, wanting to feel as though he’s not being cast aside.

I loved her more fiercely than I ever intended to love again. Not because she asked me to, but because something within me needed to. As if some part of my soul recognized hers, and begged to give her everything. Like an angel descending into the ruins of my heart, whispering to try again. And so I did. I gave her pieces of myself I’d sworn I’d never share again. My aches, my trembling truths, the wounds I thought had long since closed, but she kissed them open. I began building a future with hands still shaking from the past, tracing blueprints of us across her skin. I told myself this was safe, even as the ground cracked beneath our feet. I tried to be careful, but she made recklessness feel like hope. I let her too close. Now, where her love once lived, there’s only silence. She left, not like a storm, but like a sunrise slipping away before I could hold onto its warmth. Like a page torn from a book mid-sentence. Now I sit here, love still blooming with nowhere to go. It hums in my chest like a song with no singer, a fire slowly fading without fuel. I never meant to love again. Never meant to need again. But I did, somehow slipping through the cracks. And now, I don’t know how to stop.

Merry Christmas, or at least, that’s what I’m supposed to say. But it doesn’t feel merry anymore, does it? Maybe it’s something that comes with age, or maybe it’s karma finally catching up to me, but I don’t want to be here right now. I plaster on a smile, do my best to get through the day, but inside, I’m lost. I disassociate just to keep the tears at bay. I want to cry, I want to scream, I want to shout to the world that this isn’t fair. I don’t visit my family much anymore, it shouldn’t feel like such a burden. But it does, like being dragged to a never-ending doctor’s appointment as a kid. Every visit feels like a ticking time bomb, emotions spiraling out of control. The air grows heavy, words sharper than knives, cutting deep and leaving wounds that never fully heal. Even in the quieter moments, the tension lingers, never fully gone. I miss being a child, back when life was simple, back when the weight of expectations didn’t feel so crushing. Back when love didn’t feel so conditional, so complicated. I’ve always dreamed of having a family of my own, but now I wonder if I ever could. What if it just turns into this? A cycle of toxicity, repeating endlessly. I want to love and be loved, but this, this isn’t love anymore. Happy holidays, or maybe, not so happy after all.

It’s a quiet night, and I lie alone in my bed. The silence wraps around me like a suffocating shroud, no soft whispers to break it, no gentle words to ease the stillness. Beside me, my phone rests motionless, its screen dark, your name absent, leaving the night untouched by your laughter. The other side of the bed feels empty and cold, unmarked by your presence, no warmth, no outline, no trace of you. The air feels dense, pressing down on my chest as though carrying the weight of your absence. Each passing second grows louder, the ticking of time a relentless reminder of the quiet taking over. Above, the stars blink lazily, their distant light shimmering as if in mockery. They shine, indifferent to the longing coursing through me, the ache left by the void where you should be. I close my eyes and try to summon your face, your smile beside mine, but the image drifts like a ghost, fading with every breath. The quiet deepens, filling me with a hollowness only you could chase away. The hours stretch, cruel and unyielding, each moment a thief robbing me of rest. Though I know the morning will eventually come, I wish, more than anything, that you were here beside me tonight.

The red string, a thread so delicate it escapes even the keenest eye, yet so unyielding it binds two souls as one. It stretches through time and space, weaving effortlessly through obstacles in its path. Silent and unseen, it guides a journey meant to be traveled, connecting hearts despite life’s chaos. No matter how far it’s pulled or how tangled it becomes, it never breaks. I’ve brought scissors to mine, once even a knife, tired of the chase, weary from the search. But the thread remains intact, defying every attempt to sever it. It holds fast, enduring the weight of dreams whispered into the night and the long sighs of defeat. Even as my hands tremble, losing their grip, the string stays, steadfast, showing me the way. It unravels knots tied by false connections and leads me back to the path I strayed from. It holds the hands that are destined to find one another, unseen but unbreakable. A love so patient, it waits for its moment to be discovered. So I’ll trust its pull, follow its silent call, and hope it’s leading me to you. Are our red strings intertwined? Do they lead us to each other?

Blocked. And just like that, the world falls silent. But silence is never truly empty, something must fill the void. Teardrops splatter against the ground, streaming from weary eyes like rain on a metal rooftop. A rhythmic, sorrowful percussion. Ears ring, drowning out everything, even the hush of solitude. The quiet sobs of defeat escape, reluctant but unstoppable. I can’t bear it. Each passing minute winds me tighter into the spiral, every breath shallower than the last, as if a crushing weight is pressing down on my chest. My fingers claw at my face, pleading for the tears to stop, but they refuse, relentless, unyielding reminders. My hands curl into fists, nails digging deep into my palms, desperate to grasp a rope that is no longer there. I should get up, find something, anything, to anchor my restless mind. But no matter how hard I try, I am forced to listen. Forced to endure the consequences of my own undoing.

The distance doomed us from the beginning. Not just the miles, but the silence stretched between us, cold and unrelenting, like winter air between hands that once held warmth. You were a lighthouse, and I was a ship adrift, you showed me the way, but I was never meant to reach you. Every call felt like a prayer cast into a void, your voice flickering like candlelight, first dim, then gone. Your texts sit saved like sacred love letters, scriptures I read in the dark, pretending that longing alone could be the foundation for a life. But space grew teeth. It started small, gnawing at the little things: your laugh echoing in the still of night, your touch when words failed, your breath against my skin as you slept beside me. Then you began to fade, like a photograph left too long in the sun, still beautiful, still bright, but every glance brought more blur, especially in the places I needed you most. I keep reaching, but my hands close around air. You can’t kiss a memory, can’t build a future on a signal that always drops. So here I lie, not with anger, not with closure, just the quiet understanding that distance was always the silent killer.

What I would do for you knows no bounds. I’m not the biggest fan of tea, and soup’s not my favorite, but I’d learn to make both, for you, because you are my everything. Whether you’re feeling under the weather or full of life, whether the skies are stormy or clear, I’d brew you a *** of warmth, whatever you need. I’d read your favorite book, no matter how many times it takes to understand why it moves you, and I’d create new stories for you to explore. Even when words fail us, and communication feels strained, I’ll be there with quiet patience, never raising my voice, always holding space for us. I’d buy your favorite candles, their soft glow a reflection of your beauty, and make sure they’re extinguished as you drift into peaceful sleep. I’d take you to your comfort place, whether it’s miles away or simply the comfort of our bedroom on a heavy, wintry day. I’d pore over endless instruction manuals, though probably only after trying and failing without them, just to figure out what you need. If I were lucky enough to see you walk down the aisle toward me one day, tears would fall, knowing my dream came true. I’d teach your daughter that no obstacle is too great, that challenges can be conquered, whether it’s as small as learning to ride a bike or as vast as navigating life itself. I’d spend hours mastering how to drive a manual car just in case I ever get the chance to teach your son. You inspire me to chase my dreams, to grow, to become the very best version of myself. For you, I’d do it all and then some.

To truly love someone is so much more than uttering three simple words. It’s playing their favorite games, even when you’re unsure about them, just to savor the joy of being together. It’s gathering what they need before they even ask, sparing them from worry. Love is holding each other close, standing firm through their darkest battles. To truly love someone is to see their flaws clearly, not ignoring their imperfections but embracing them anyway. It’s found in the smallest gestures, like memorizing their favorite order, and in the grandest, like pouring hours into creating something meaningful just for them. True love doesn’t only exist when rainbows fill the sky, it’s present in the storms, standing steadfast before the calm. It’s not just whispered in moments of ease but declared through actions when fears and struggles become real. It’s the coffee you brew early in the morning to make their day brighter. It’s the warmth of a reassuring smile when all hope feels lost. It’s in the quiet glance, the recognition of a defeated sigh, and the countless reasons to stay when every instinct urges you to leave. Love notices the cracks, the scars of battles fought, and chooses to heal together. It’s striving for new heights, fueled by the strength you find in each other. To love is to make silent sacrifices, to honor an unspoken vow. It’s the foundation of trust, the unbreakable bond that endures. True love is far more than words, it’s the actions that give those words meaning. Love isn’t just a fleeting sound; it’s the home where your heart finds peace, where two souls live in harmony. I truly love you.

I’m striving to write a poem, yet the words elude me, as if every letter has crumbled to dust within my mind. A spark of poetic fire ignites, but when I reach for even a single syllable to shatter the silence, each nascent line dissolves into emptiness. I battle on, though the will I once possessed has faded like a flame doused by relentless rain, leaving only wet coals behind. I wander into the void of night, my energy dissipating into shadows, each effort emerging as a desperate plea that the void mercilessly swallows. Still, I stand at the edge, peering into a vast sea of forgotten verses, watching the rhythmic ebb of lost words. I know that soon, I will gather the scattered strands of my thoughts and awaken the dormant creation within.

Breakups don’t make sense to me. Am I just supposed to feel nothing now? To erase all the time we spent together, the memories etched into my mind, the quiet promises whispered in the dark? Am I meant to set it all on fire, pretending you don’t cross my thoughts with every breath I take? As if love is just a fleeting phase, something that vanishes as easily as it began. Am I supposed to suddenly hate you, to force down the feelings still rooted in my chest? Forget the warmth of your hand in mine, our fingers laced together against the chill of the world? What about the dreams we built, reshaping our futures to fit one another? Is “moving on” some sort of magic trick? Or is it a spell no one’s ever taught me, some dark art that hides the ache beneath tangled overgrowth? Do the feelings ever really die, or do they just lie buried, choked out by weeds where flowers once bloomed? The silence left in their place is deafening, and I can’t understand how hearts can simply unravel. How love, once so vivid, can close its eyes to everything it defined. How am I supposed to walk away when the echoes of what we had still call me back?

I just want to love you again. I trace your name in my sighs through the night, a melody lost to time, hushed by regret, yet I still hum it through the pain. And I always will. The crisp air still smells like yesterday, carrying echoes of laughter clasped between our locked hands. Like the promises we swore would never break, only misplaced, leaving space where we once stood together. I don’t long for time to rewind; I want to love you now, with the lessons our mistakes have taught me. I hate these shackles on our hearts, the restraints that make even the smallest things feel fragile. I’ve fallen for you, and I fall again each time I try to stay away. I love it all, the good, the bad, even the fights that teach us something new. Even in our lowest moments, I still search for you. I can’t be just friends with you. I’m sorry, but I can’t compartmentalize this love. I don’t care about perfection; I care about presence, about loving you fully, no matter the effort it takes. And I always will, even if I’m not allowed to. From the sound of your voice to the hue of your presence, to every piece of you, I will always love you.

I love everything about you. I love every part of your body, the way it feels, the way it moves. Your hair, no matter the color you choose, flows with such grace, framing your beauty perfectly. The gentle curve of your forehead, holding thoughts both new and familiar. Your eyebrows, delicate as the whispers of the moon, arching like a soft promise. Your grey-blue eyes, piercing yet serene, gazing into the night, reflecting the vastness of the ocean. Your ears, so delicate, like works of art, sculpted to perfection. Your nose, shaped to flawless symmetry, crinkling with every laugh. Your lips, soft and inviting, the perfect place for mine to rest. Your jaw, smooth as silk, calling out to be traced with my fingers or lips. Your neck, so tender, the perfect place for me to nuzzle and kiss, a spot to savor, perfect to wrap my hands around when you want. Strong, steady shoulders that carry the world without faltering. Your arms, capable of holding dreams yet gentle enough to embrace me with warmth. Your hands, a perfect fit in mine, fingers intertwining as we hold each other. Your delicate fingers, exploring, tracing every inch of my skin. Your *******, soft and captivating, a sensual beauty that draws me in, a perfect fit in my hands. The gentle curve of your stomach, each line and contour a story of our love, worthy of a thousand kisses. Your hips, a curve of strength and power, the ideal place to hold on to. The gentle bounce of your soft ***, moving with grace and energy, mesmerizing me with every step. The soft rise of your ***** mound, perfect for teasing you with the promise of what’s to come. Your sacred space, where our rhythms blend in harmony, creating something beautiful. Your legs, long and elegant, carrying you with a poise that invites me to walk beside you. The arch of your feet, where my hands would rest, soothing away any lingering pain. I love the sounds you make. I love the way you snort when you laugh, a pure, unfiltered joy that makes me smile. Your whispers in the quiet of the night, like silk brushing against me. The excitement in your voice when you can’t wait to share something you’ve remembered. Your moans, soft yet powerful, sending shivers down my spine. I love your strength, your resilience, your ability to push through challenges with a fierce spirit. And most of all, I love that you love me, because every part of you, in all its beauty, is a treasure that I’ll always cherish.