I’m tracing back to moments I’ve replayed a thousand times,

It’s just a confusing tone
Have the doubts and hatred grown too overblown
Has my perception been ruined on the lies we condone,
On the fleeting pleasure of a throne

Stop and wait a sec
When ten years from now, I look at myself, will I express regret
Do the failures of youth dictate the path we expect,
Or does a stumble define what’s next

An adult all alone,
With nothing to do, he spends his time scrolling through his phone,
With no one to call his own.

But being alone is no cause for shame
Sometimes the right person just never came
It’s not a failure or flaw it's not a crack in the frame,
Just a life unfolding at its own pace

Though frightened by the thought,
But what do you expect when you yourself have brought
A life where the cracks are easier to see than the whole
That if I’ve let myself be caught,
What if I grow into someone I no longer know
But perhaps the cracks bring light,
A fragile hope that cuts through nights

It seems like all the years are wasted, but who is there to blame
Hope is a thing that just makes me feel like ache
What is there to be hopeful of when all I see is pain
And I’d leave, if what was waiting for me wasn’t flames

And it’s all just in my chest
A disease that forbids me from going to rest
Lord, forgive me for where I’ve strayed,
If I’m still in your grace, let my soul not fade
You’re the only one who knows my path
I’m here by your will, not by chance or wrath
Just don’t take my eyes from my head too soon
Let me see the sun, even in this darkened room.

I just woke up and—
It’s cold, and I’m tired.
Standing at the bus stop with my neighbors,
my bag heavier than my body,
my head heavier than my bag.

The textbook in my hand lists my exams,
Kingdoms I can’t classify and processes I can’t explain.

The bus driver lives around the corner.
We hear his engine start,
the grumble of morning.
He pulls out,
backs up,
and rolls toward us.

We climb in.
Seats creak.
Heat hums, just barely.

I open the book,
but the letters won’t stay still.

I glance up—
and the sky hits me.

Pastel.
Not pink, not purple—something between.
And it’s almost as if you can smell it—
it smells like—

Like something good.
Not candy.
Not flowers.
Like air after rain, but sweeter—
cleaner.

The sky just exhaled
and the world paused
to breathe it in.

I stare.
Busmates probably think I’m twelve,
staring out the window like I’ve never seen clouds.

But that sky—

It knocks the tired out of my bones.
Cuts through the fog in my chest.
Wipes out the weight of what-ifs and what-nows.

It feels holy, almost.
Not church holy,
but the kind that sneaks up on you
when you don’t believe in much.

I keep looking,
like maybe if I stare long enough,
I’ll stay awake.

And for a moment,
I don’t care about the test,
or the clock,
or the day.

For a moment,
I believe that something out there
is still worth watching.

I want to write you a poem,
One as fragrant as a breeze after the first rain,
carrying the scent of jasmine,
twisting softly through your hair.

I want to tell you how even the flowers, with all their perfumes,
grow jealous of your presence,
their petals fade, knowing they cannot match your grace.

I want to weave words around you,
like a shawl steeped in rosewater and musk,
wrapping you in whispers
that linger long after I am gone.
Like the sun's gentle glow in a cold morning,
warming you everywhere.

Hold me as you once did,
With a love so fierce, it stilled the explosions of stars.

Wrap me in your arms,
Tighter than the universe binds its constellations.

Feel my heartbeat against yours,
A rhythm only we could share,
A connection that feels eternal.

You are my always, my only.
So please, just one more time,
Let me feel what we once were.

Green eyes, soft as moss in the rain,
Holding the kind of quiet that hums.
A flicker of gold when the light shifts—
A forest, a flame, something alive.

That Garden, That Garden
I see it in my sleep.
The rivers run green,
bright and alive,
a scene that holds me still.

The air is thick with a scent I cannot name,
unique, like nothing else.
The water flows with a sound
I would hold onto forever.

The flowers are soft,
their colors muted,
gentle against the eye.

In the lake, a bridge rises,
bright oak simple, steady.
And the tree stands alone,
its arms wide,
a mother watching over her children.

in a very large labyrinth
a lone walker wanders
once was a figure danced, bathed in light
now an echo fading into night

each step forward, under the moon
carries a whisper of a tune
a melody once sweets, bitter now it seems
for love shared by one, alive was at least in dreams

the hearts solace, memories fray
yet there’s relief in the unravelling
from the grasp of a love that never did spread.

In this gentle release, both sorrow and grace,
For a heart that loved alone, finds its own space.
No longer tethered by what could have been,
Embracing the stillness, of love unseen.

I ask for no love to linger, nor fade into blue,
But for memories to visit, as old friends often do.

unburdened now, but i miss the weight’s hold.
that gentle hold.