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

052625

It rained.
The sky trembled,
and so did I—
waking in the hush of lateness,
a body unraveling in silence.
Illness came not like thunder,
but like memory—
quiet and overdue.

Weeks ago,
voices too young to understand
asked me things I couldn’t answer.
I smiled.
But something inside
went missing.
So I closed the door
before the next knock.
I named it fear,
but maybe it was a kind of vanishing—
the way I’ve always slipped through
before connection could tether me.

Trust—
a thin, brittle bridge
between islands.
I walked it once.
Now I float
in my own weather.

I thought
I was finished breaking.
That the years had made me whole.
But strength is not stillness.
And even stone remembers
how to fall.

There were worries
I tore from my own hands,
pages I left blank
so no one could read me.
And yet—
this morning,
I unwrapped something fragile
I had wrapped in forgetting.

And it was me.
Still here.
Still trying to become.

I never knew hands could touch
without ever brushing skin,
or how a voice could thread through ribs
and teach a heart to sing again.

You were a garden I stumbled into,
wild lilies climbing every broken fence,
their scent so thick, so sweet,
I forgot the world I was running from.
We built a thousand dreams
between the commas of our silences,
Your laughter weaving through the spaces
where doubt once lived.
And God, the way we fit—
Like rain hitting heating concrete,
like sighs into waiting arms.
I didn’t believe it could be real.

But love had torn my hands before,
left lilies rotting in my palms,
and I knew–—
I knew I'd only ruin something so pure.
So I broke first,
chose the lie over the fall,
let the fear wear my face,
let you believe I was never yours.
You didn’t chase me.
Maybe you thought I never cared.
Maybe it’s better you think that.
Maybe it’s safer if you forget.

Now I only hold the echoes—
the soft half-smile in your words,
the way your laughter cradled my broken parts,
the feeling of finding home
in someone I was too afraid to deserve.

We were a wildfire of could have been,
burned out before the first match struck,
leaving nothing behind
but ashes that still smell of lilies,
and the cruel memory
of what it felt like to belong.

Now I walk through a life you never touched,
grieving through almosts that's left in fragments,
watering dead lilies in the garden of my chest,
wishing you would hate me,
so it might hurt you less.
But the truth is,
I never felt like this with anyone —
It was brief, but moments with you felt infinite

'You left a covet in me masking'
to leave you aching for someone
who would never leave.

And in the quiet,
where your memory still breathes,
I kneel before a field of dying lilies,
and bury myself, deep
beside the love I was too coward to stay.
I'm the wildflower that you shouldn't keep


Erennwrites

The heart is red
not because it loves,
but because it remembers.
It remembers the way a name can echo
like a prayer or a curse.
The way touch can feel like home,
or a wound.
The way silence can say
more than a thousand declarations ever could.

Red is not gentle.
It is not safe.
It is the heat of wanting something
you were never meant to hold.
It is the color of holding on too tightly,
and the bruise left behind
when you finally let go.

I have felt red
in the tremble before a first kiss,
and in the stillness after the last goodbye.
In laughter shared beneath stars
that forgot our names,
and in the cold space between
a heartbeat and a response that never came.

Red is the moment you realize
they are not yours,
and never were,
yet somehow
every part of you belonged to them.
It is the ache that arrives uninvited,
on quiet mornings,
on crowded trains,
in songs that once meant nothing
and now mean everything.

Red is the war between loving and leaving.
It is the scream you swallow,
the tears you don’t shed,
the goodbye you say
without moving your lips.

And yet
with all its fury,
all its sorrow,
all its breaking
red is still love.
Even when love is lost.
Even when love is not returned.
Even when it hurts more than it heals.

Because red is proof
that you felt something real.
That your heart
was brave enough
to bleed.
And in that bleeding,
something beautiful lived.
Even if only for a moment.

And maybe,
that moment
was everything.


Erennwrites

I don't want to fall like the leaves in autumn.
or like the snow in winter,
or rain when god is crying down to what a disappointment I am.
I want to shine like the sun, I want them to notice my sparkly lip gloss and admire me, like Athena.
I want to guide everyone through the night with my moonlight.
but I fail to their eyes because they dont see a success,
they see the opposite, they see ugliness. well now I know to never try again.

030125

I sink in the vast oceans of grace,
I wait for You, my Lover,
The One who loves my soul,
My Redeemer who lives and reigns forever.

Even the elders bow before You,
Their voices lift in endless praise, singing, "Holy, holy, holy,"
A symphony that never ceases—
We were created for one purpose: to worship You eternally.

Beautiful are You,
And beautiful are all Your works.
You are the Light that guides my path,
Never ignoring a single cry of mine,
You answer and comfort, holding me close in Your embrace.

In my victories and my deepest distress,
You are always present; You are my rock, my foundation.
You have built my life upon a solid foundation,
And written my name in Your eternal Book of Life.

I wonder, what could the Heavens truly be like—
Without You, could they even be called Heaven?
I gaze at the sky, searching,
But when I look within my heart,
I find You already there, dwelling within me.