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Maybetomorrow Mar 30
Some days, it’s a hunger
a deep pull from the stomach,
not for food, not for water,
but for something unnamed,
something just out of reach.

It’s in the way the morning air feels electric,
like possibility itself,
how the sun spills over cracked sidewalks,
touching everything,
saying, Look. Be here. Want more.

It’s in the ache of laughter
that lasts too long,
in the way music grips the ribs
and shakes loose something tender.
It’s the way fingers linger
when hands almost meet.

And yes, some days, the hunger fades,
buried under the weight of routine,
but then
a scent, a sound, a sudden rush of memory
and there it is again,
the pull, the ache, the craving
for more of this,
this fragile, fleeting, impossible thing.

This life.
Maybetomorrow Mar 21
Dear Reader, Writer, Feeler

I don’t know where you are
By a window, light tilting in like an old song,
or on a train, the world rushing past faster than your thoughts
Maybe somewhere quieter, where the air hums with your own company
Maybe in a rotten fantasy

Wherever you are  thank you

For reading
for letting words settle inside you, heavy or light,
for holding them when they ache,
for listening to strangers who somehow know your heart

For writing
for pulling something trembling and half-born from yourself,
even when the lines come out crooked,
even when no one is watching
You make something where there was nothing
That’s a kind of miracle

For feeling
for staying soft in a world that worships sharp edges,
for carrying joy and grief in the same, open hands,
dead and alive
for letting beauty ruin you, again and again
You are proof that tenderness survives

Poetry isn’t far away
It’s not precious, not locked behind glass
It’s built from the marrow of us
from the things we say and the things we never will

It exists because you do
It matters because you make it matter

Thank you for showing up
For the words, the silences, and the spaces in between

The world feels less lonely because you’re here

With love,
A fellow traveler
Maybetomorrow Mar 21
Between Blur and Distance
The light scatters, soft and indifferent,

Bokeh blooms behind me - city lights, street lamps,

or maybe just the sun breaking on restless water
It doesn’t matter what
Only that it’s blurred
Only that it doesn’t ask to be seen clearly
Somewhere beyond the edges of this frame,

Point Nemo waits
An oceanic nowhere,
a place so far from touch

that even the waves forget they’re supposed to come back
No one stands there
No one ever did
It is a coordinate without a witness
just like my breaking heart
I wonder,
am I the subject or the blur?

The focus or the absence?
I am clearly the point nemo
sea around me people with faces not focused
or who dont focus on me
I am boken
or
Broken
or maybe both
or somewhere in between
The sunlight finally streaming in
Through the blinds and shades
The warmth I feel on top my skin
A warmth that never fades
That lightens up our planet
All the oceans and the waves
It shimmers in the distance
But is vacant from our caves
The sun in all its glory
In every shape and phase
That shines down from the heavens
In the form of rays
  Mar 20 Maybetomorrow
Vianne Lior
I weep as often as I laugh
not from sorrow, nor from joy,
but because the world hums,
and I refuse to be deaf to it.
Maybetomorrow Mar 20
The whirlpool of emotions pulls me under,
and I am tired of treading water
I am tired of trying to stay afloat
I am just a girl who wonders of what ifs
I am just a girl who feels too much,

who knows where you are hurt,
even when you haven’t said it out loud
Maybe if I learned to hold myself a little gently,
it wouldn’t ache this way
Maybe happiness isn’t built from sadness,

no matter how familiar it feels
I am just a girl who wants a quiet place,
to love and be loved,
without asking for it
I am just a girl, still searching
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