He looks out of the window
to get the last glimpse of her
She is not the kind to stick to a place
he knew that
yet he fell
knowing very well
She would break his heart
but he would rather hurt than
not love her
at all.

You were selling lies
for love
and I bought it

She has a heart of gold
you would not know
until you mine deeper.

Merry Christmas love
Here I greeted you at midnight
Just like I promised you
We planned to go to Seychelles
Because we both hate cold
The kind of cold that goes away
With layers of clothes
But you left me here with cold
That doesn't go away
With any amount of layering
But your arms
I wait at the doorway
like a kid waits for the Santa
But all I got this Christmas
is lies
and
a broken heart

Soft fluffy clouds against the turquoise blue
neon hues
it feels unreal
with you here
with me next to you

There are many things that make me feel
Feel like my existence is a burden
But you make me believe otherwise
You make me feel like I belong

I listen to Joji
on repeat
while I wait for the train
I don't know if it is your words
Or the night
That keeps reminding me
of the time we  
danced in Subway
With your arms around me
Now I am cold
Now your arms embrace
Someone else
All I am left with is your lingering smell
from your jacket
I am no one to you
I am no one to you at least now
And nothing hurts more
than realizing you never loved me
the way I did
even though I was someone to you.

What happens after you love me to the moon and back?

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 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.

They’ve lived with me long enough  
to know my silences  
to settle into the spaces I stopped filling  
Sadness leans against the doorframe
arms crossed like it knows I’ve been avoiding eye contact
Anger curls up by the heater
restless, shifting, but quieter than it used to be
Disappointment is sprawled across the couch
staring at the ceiling

Fear stays in the corner
knees tucked to its chest
flinching when the lights flicker
Regret drags its fingers along the table
murmuring what-ifs under its breath
Longing presses its face to the window
watching a world that never let it belong

They have been good to me, in their own way
Kept me company when I had none
Held my hands steady when the world blurred
I used to know how to hold them back
Now I can barely hold them at all

So I take them to the flea market
Set up a stall
Or two
Lay them out carefully, one by one
Line them up under flickering lights
a little display of secondhand emotions

I set the prices low
Marked down
No Refunds
Not because they are cheap
Or unwanted
but because no one pays full price  
for something heavy
something with a history
Too worn, too strange, too much

People come
They stare for a while,  
And leave

By evening, the stall is still full
Grief, longing, heartbreak
all of them waiting,  
watching people pass

By morning, they are gone
Not sold
Not taken
Just—
gone

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

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.

You know what the problem is
Of having a big heart?
You need to break it into
Many fragments to contain it
Within yourself.

I wander between heart and mind
Between daydreams and reality
Between tormenting silences
And tiring screams
Between yes and no
Between beauty and tragedy
Between being stripped and layered
Between passion and comfort
Between hurtful truths and comforting lies
Between search and rescue
Between sky and roof
Between full and empty
Between realization and delusion
Between whole and pieces
Between gaining and losing
But most of all between
my own inner landscape
Weeding watering
Planting uprooting
Building dismantling
Fencing unlatching
Acknowledging that this garden is not perfect
Not by any stretch of the imagination
It has been the Atlantis of the soul
Seen layers below the rock bottom
It has been a traveler
Who has found a home
In happiness and in pain.

I feel gloomy today
But I cannot blame the weather
Its bright sunny summer day
Sparse clouds with turquoise blue backdrop
Gentle breeze
Flowers waving in distance
Whispers and giggles
Nothing is gloomy
But me
Which makes me think
If I am broken beyond
Repair

In a dimly lit corner of a bar,
there you were
I saw you from afar
You gaze at me
I could tell you wanted to play it cool
and not seem like a fool to love
It might be too late for that
you might have lied to others
but somehow
your eyes gave it away
you spoke of adventures, places unknown,
Of mountains climbed and oceans crossed,
In your tales, a world I had never known,
Your laughter rang like a sweet reminder,
Your voice, a symphony of joy,
In that fleeting encounter,
our hearts met,
With askew roads of life,
like a shooting star
as
beautiful
as
it may be
it's shortlived
the night has to end
you ought to go
onto your new adventures
Boy I met in a bar
That is how briefly our story
ends
And that is how I would like to remember you
Oh you beautiful
Boy, I met in a bar.

When the sky is awfully close to the land
When the clouds spread their arms around the mountains and weep
for hours
For days
And sometimes for weeks
The mountain hugs it tight with its misty arms
Blankets it with fog
Until the sky cannot weep anymore
Until it feels light again
So it can float back
Wander
Gush the story of the land that stretches underneath
Only for the mountain to rustle with glee

I know your eyes by heart
I know what color they are
when the clock strikes 2
Oh how they
masquerade the nectar
by the noon
How they flutter
when I smile at you
when it rains outside
they turn a little blue
but I like your eyes
the most when I look at you

I want to paint my nails in the color of you
So everytime I run my fingers through my hair
It will remind me of you.

I trace my fingers
on the rims of your silhouette
As we breathe the same air
your hands reach my waist
with touch that isn't your embrace
it only takes me a second to realize
that it isn't you
and
that I am merely
moving
with the timeless chase
of my shadow
my echo
my only friend

Half of you
Half of me
So I thought
When it was all of me
And none of you

Laundry from last week on my bed
Stale coffee on the bed side table
Trash on one corner of my studio
I lie on this bed
Lifeless
Not dead
But not alive either.

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

I am scared that I met you only to say goodbye

She sits by the light
half-awake, half-dreaming
the kind of morning where silence
feels like a conversation

Her hair, undone by the wind
and her eyes
they hold a language deeper than words
a pause between thoughts
a moment before the rain

There’s something in her gaze
not just beauty, but a knowing,
like she’s seen the sun rise a thousand times
and still finds it worth watching

She wears the weight of the world
like an old sweatshirt
loose, familiar,
but never quite forgotten

And I wonder, does she know?
That the way she exists
unfiltered, unbroken
is a kind of poetry
no one can write down

I love him so much
I have surrendered my evenings to him
The colors, the breeze
all dedicated to him
I filled my pages for him
Woven words for him
My thoughts are his
My heart is his
The melody of the summer breeze is his
My days are his
But he is naive
He does not see
And sometimes I am furious
But when he holds my hand
Even for a split second
It seems like it is all worth it

It is simply not the place you belong
or people you love
but where you have your roots attached
where you hid all your childhood treasure
that can never be shoved and be embedded somewhere
foreign.

It wasnt the endless call
That made me fall
Or your unbroken gaze
That you gave
like haze
Amidst the rainy hills
Is it the love that you ask
Or something you mask
Your ordinary eyes
No longer so ordinary
And somehow that makes me worry
You and I come from two different worlds
And somehow they swirl
With ticking time
Each second makes you more divine
Before this whirlpool drowns
And the world frowns
I must tell you how I feel
Would that make you kneel?
Or would you peel?
Unveil all
That you masked
And say you never asked
Not for love
As I sit there
Numb
And
Cold
With no one to hold
While you escape your
Temporary mold

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

You say
I am your home
I am merely
A 200 sq feet room
With no bed to sleep
No chairs to sit
No food to feed
Yet you lay here
Next to me
On the creaking floor
Under a
Dusty ceiling fan
We drink our tears
Nibble on our emotions
While I peek
As you walk to your home
Through these rusty window bars
I realize
With you
My heart feels like
A ruin with a mansion's garden
Yet each evening you
Come right back
To it.

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.

If the world is ending
tell me a truth and a lie
before the words run dry
If the world is ending
roll a dice
see whether we bribe and survive
If the world is ending
look me in the eye
for there are no tears left to cry
If the world is ending
I will be by your side
just by your side
yourside.

I finally open this door again
I am tired of closing it shut
I am tired of fighting
I am tired of crying
I am tired of gasping for air
So I guess I will just...
...let it go
let it slip
see where it takes me
maybe it will drown me
only time will tell
But for now
I rather hurt
than be stuck in my own little music box
dancing to the same beat that makes me sick

The window is open
Early summer, the air is cool,
but I feel warm
My sweater slips from my shoulders,
a cup of coffee sits by my side,
cold, as always.

The city is winding down
Lights flicker in apartment windows,
little glimpses into lives I’ll never know
A guy sprawled on the floor, shoes still on
Someone curled up with their cat,
Another person just standing by their window,
staring out,
like me
Breathing in the night
Letting it hold them for a second.

It’s weird how we’re all here,
all living separate stories, but sharing this same quiet moment.
Sonder, I guess
That strange little realization
that everyone’s life is as real as mine
That they have their own problems,
their own losses, their own reasons to be awake right now
Some heavier, some lighter
But we all keep moving anyway

The air shifts, brushing against my skin
I don’t feel sad. I don’t feel happy.
Just here.
Just in this moment.

I guess this is goodbye.
To what, I don’t really know.

You are a fickle paradise
I am not sure whether I want to be drunk on you Or high
You exist in seconds
My hours can't capture
Yet I can't stop chasing
For you are the notion of my rapture

I love something about today
I love how it masquerades the gloom it is
I love how it saturates the air with sugarcoated lies
I love how it hums the corrupted song of promises
I love how it blankets its hostile arms around me
I love how its rusty rays slouch on my skin
I love how I am enthralled with its grimy charm
Just like how I was intoxicated by your stale love
I love how it reminds me of you.

in another life
i hand myself the softness i craved
the hush of a nursery,
tiny socks folded in drawers,
the scent of baked cookies
and giggles echoing down a hallway i built
with both hands and every part of my heart.

in another life,
i let myself be her
the one who kneels to tie shoelaces
and learns their favorite video game
just to lose on purpose.
the mom who never forgets a bedtime story
even when the world outside forgets
everything else.

but not in this one.
not here.
not when the sky falls in headlines
and safety feels like a myth
told to children too young to know better.

my mother still holds hope
she says:
you’d be a good one.
you’d love so fully, they’d bloom.
but she doesn’t see
that my love is the very reason
i won’t.

because to carry them
into this chaos
this fractured, loud, unforgiving place
feels like betrayal
dressed in lullabies.

so i stay empty,
not from lack
but from a fullness of care
so deep it aches.

and maybe
in another life
i will not love them
by leaving them behind.

I try to think back to the last time I was happy
but it has been a while
since I last saw you.

I know your eyes
like a midsummer nap
hazy, golden, pulling me under
soft as the hush before sleep
burning like light through closed lids

I remember them too well
too violently
like a dream that wakes me gasping
God, I wish I could forget
but forgetting means
losing you twice

I lost you once
when your voice turned to silence

Then again,
when even the silence stopped feeling like you

I write my love letters
to you
on paper boats
sail them to you
yet when you receive it
you say there are no words
when I have
turned the ocean blue

I am made up of nostalgia
I live in my head
I breathe in the memories
And breathe out your embrace
So slowly I can forget
what it is like to held by you
And I can make some space
Your touch lingers on my face
But baby let me move on
Stop tracing those fingers
Even though it's all in my head
I need to make space
For someone else to take my breath
away

I write this in the quiet spaces,
where the world’s noise fades, and only you remain
I’m learning, slowly,
that love doesn’t always scream;
sometimes it whispers in the dark,
in the shared silence of a moment,
in the glance that says everything without a word

There’s a comfort in this quiet,
in knowing that we don’t need to shout
to prove what we feel
You have a way of making silence speak louder than anything,
of making every inch of space
between us feel like home

I don’t need to see it all at once
I don’t need to understand every part
What matters is this—
the stillness where you
and I are

Yours,
Lover

I complain about you
You make me not want to sleep at night
You make me dance and cry
You make me hate the blue skies
But when I moved
Cities
Countries
Continents
You were my constant
In you
I have found
Home
My sadness

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

We live in the spaces
between what is and what could be—
in the pause before the next step,
where the air is full of everything
we forgot to say

Most of the time I think to drift
drift from things around me
only to have them in my
thoughts
even bleaker
kind of bleak
that makes me want to
break my bones
to make sure these thoughts don't exist
not even a little
not within me

mornings are
 hazy green.

not fog.
just something thick

i can’t walk through
without forgetting

what i was doing.

i missed the magnolia bloom.
again.

it’s always

just over.

like it was waiting for me
to look away.

i clench my jaw

until it breaks.
rip my heart out of the chest
only to sew it back again
maybe it’s

placebo happiness

through sadness

just enough feeling

to not feel numb.

just enough

to trick myself

into thinking

this is living.

sometimes

i tell myself

everyone hates me.
not dramatically.
just

like a fact.

like a quiet truth

that’s easier
than
well
uncertainty.

maybe this is
diet joy.
lite living.
a knockoff feeling
from the back shelf
that still gets the job done.
placebo soul.

but lately,
i’m scared of being alone.
the shape of my voice.
it knows me
too well
too precisely,
and wants
something
i forgot how to give.

It's raining here in New York City
I wonder if it's raining there too
People say we share the same sky
But how can it cry but smile too?