This life is
really not so poetic.
It's dreary and empty,
and almost ordinary.
These poems are but therapy-
an attempt to make sense of
this world and all emotions
that come with living in it.
They're a coping mechanism to
work through the pain and
better understand oneself.

I miss you like
a seed in winter
craving the warm sunlight
of your touch and the
rejuvenation of your rains
to keep me blooming
throughout  
the year.

Maybe you will survive
when the storm is over but
you will never be the same.
It will leave you broken and scattered,
like the ruins of a city and
uprooted like its trees.
Only a wasteland will remain,
to which you will have to
refill with lessons learnt.

It's the solitary nights
I cherish the most.
The silence and shadows,
the thoughts and theories-
these are the things that
keep this heart beating-
this is what it's all about.

It's true that I can't
see you anymore but I
still can't forget you

5:24 PM
25/2/25

Sometimes I
think about all the
places I could have gone
but never did,
wondering what versions
of me I would have met
in all of these countless
possibilities.

You are only
torturing yourself
when trying to guess
what would have happened.
The past has happened,
and no amount of
thought will
change that.