I never learned to hold today.
Always too busy watching it slip,
waiting for it to become softer,
waiting for it to turn into yesterday.

I live like a thief in reverse,
stealing moments from myself,
hoarding them in the vault of yesterday
where they gleam with the lie of permanence.

But the present?
It terrifies me.
Its edges are too sharp,
its light too blinding,
its weight too heavy for hands
that only know how to clutch at shadows.

I wish I had stayed,
just once,
long enough to feel the warmth
before it turned cold.
Long enough to call it mine
before it belonged to the past.

But here I am again,
watching today dissolve into memory,
wishing I had loved it
while it was still alive.

The sun drifts through the window,
dust motes floating like thoughts half-formed.
Morning hums with routine, soft and slow,
coffee brews, the sky yawns,
waiting for me to step into its pace.

A clock ticks, each second
pulls the day forward—
busy, but not filled.
I move through it, a bit like a dreamer
on autopilot, watching the world
without quite being in it.

Conversations blur,
laughter echoes but doesn't stick,
emails come and go like the wind.
Lunch, then more work,
a few moments stolen for myself,
writing or scrolling, feeling
the weight of being here,
not quite anywhere else.

Then evening falls,
the sky's colors spilling like ink,
painting the world with quiet.
I sit in the transit bus,
no rushing,
letting time slip like water
through my fingers,
I miss the sunset
the starry night.

The projector hums,
a distant knockoff
starry sky unfolds
I let the lights flicker
as the music wraps around me,
Beach House playing  
But not in a Beach House—
their sound echoes
through my room,
the ocean I never see
rolling in waves of melody,
familiar and distant,
like a dream that never quite comes true.

The night ends,
a story without resolution,
just a pause
before tomorrow begins again.

Under a sky cloaked in soft gray,
the rain falls in quiet whispers,
tapping on leaves, thrusting them down
pooling in quiet corners,
weaving songs only stillness can hear.

I sit by the window,
watching the world blur at its edges,
each drop shaped like lens
that bends light and time.

And yet, somewhere deep within,
I wait.
Not for the rain to stop,
but for the light
to thread its way
through the heavy clouds.

I imagine it now—
a soft, golden breath
amongst the blue
warming the earth,
awakening hidden colors
that slept beneath the gray.

Until then, I let the rain be,
let it paint the world in quiet tones
As the sky moans
And when sun comes,
Not if
For even the longest rains
must yield to the sky’s
golden embrace
make space for this heart
to find solace

I used to write about you,
Now I write about me.
You were obsessed with yourself,
But it seems the world agrees

For my poetries are unread
My words wilt down
I am sick of watering my verses
Only for them to
Turn frail and brown

Unnoticed
In the background
Don't wake them up
they wont be kind
They somehow
Grew their own mind

They shuffle and jolt,
Unraveling slow,
Transforming into something
I no longer know

What’s a mind without a heart,
If not a cruel embrace?
You gave birth to these words—
So don’t blame me for their grace.

In the grand scheme of things
I am but a whisper
My life, a fleeting breath
And that's alright

But when the weight of existence
Presses upon your soul
And you feel adrift in the vastness
Remember the small wonders

Focus on the twilight hour
Where deep blue melts into inky black
And rooftops kiss the sky

Watch leaves dance on invisible strings
Swaying to the rhythm of the breeze
The very air that gives us life

Marvel at golden sunbeams
As they filter through emerald canopies
Painting the world in dappled light

Gaze upon the harvest moon
As it pirouettes in a ripe orange sky
And indulges in celestial ballet for you

You are a note in nature's symphony
A brush stroke in the cosmic canvas
Brief, perhaps, but vital

For this moment, this breath
It is enough to simply be
Part of the grand design

And in that awareness
However fleeting it may be
There is profound beauty in being alive

In stretch of vast sky
Remnants of yesterday's sunset
Glistens through the rain
Some stale old blue
And some fresh coat of orange
Naked trembling trees
As bare as
A newly born baby
Misty clouds
The rain is not pouring yet
But gentle taps on my shoulders it is rattling in the distance
Should I wait for it here?
Or meet it halfway ?
In no time
It's passed me with no embrace
Like the sky has ceased to exist above me
I am this hollow being
With no end in sight
Drifting through space of cold
nothingness