i cannot help but long for you
at times when the dusk meets the dawn
when the stars blink too brightly
and the moon's glow is endearing
when i have nothing to hold on to,
save for the hope that you and i
may have shared the same love
for that one thing that kept us alive
i cannot help but wonder what it was like
to hear your stories and how you made them up
as you told your children about them
i wonder if you're as beautiful
as my mother always say you are
you still live in her memories,
keeping you alive in the stories she tells us
and i wonder if she misses you too
and after all this, i sit in silence
then i wonder—
how can i miss someone i've never met?
i miss you, grandpa. i wish the universe gave us a chance to meet.
hello friends! i haven't been here in a while
but it's not like i was very active anyway.
just wanted to drop by and let u know
that i've posted the synopsis & the mood
boards of my first book, kindred hearts,
which is a contemporary novel about
loss & grief, mental health, friendship,
and the journey to self-love & healing.
i haven't been writing a lot of (free-verse)
poetry these days, but it'd mean the world
to me if u can check out my book too.
thank u & ily
here's the link for any curious souls out here: https://www.wattpad.com/story/258236928-kindred-hearts
and then i wonder,
when will i rise
from these ashes?
this is the result when it’s 3 pm and i’m burned out from work (though this can also be an ode to my other piece, “burning matches”)
i think i have reached
the point where i finally
feel at ease with myself.
i have found my peace
and quiet and now—
now i’m on my way home.
my heart has never felt this
soft and light before
and it is so worth it.
an excerpt of my journal entry from my nights in the hotel room. growth is painful but necessary and fulfilling.
loneliness is a place i am terrified
of getting used to but have been
living in it for as long as i can
it is a house that doesn’t feel like
home; the only lit streetlight in
an abandoned city; the twinkling
star in the vast night sky; the last
note of a song but one that’s fading
away; the room with a bed that
hasn’t been slept in ever since
a lover was lost in the war.
the echoes of laughter of what once;
the lingering touch of our fingers
after our hands had let go;
the wallflower sitting quietly
in the corner of a party.
it is all of these things at once;
but i think, most of all, loneliness
is a friend who i so desperately
want to get rid of—and i do,
at times—yet she’s always there;
waiting for me to take her back.
you burn me.
and it isn’t anyone’s
fault but mine.
i gave you the match
in the first place.
i told myself never to let love in again, but here i am, burned by the same flame twice.
nostalgic for a love that never was;
for a person that came and went;
for a fire that never ignited.