No one owns your body.
No one has the right to take.
No one has the right to push.

It’s okay to say no.
Even when they say you’re leading them on.
Even when they say you owe them.
Even when they say you don’t mean it.

It’s okay to say no.
Even when your voice shakes.
Even when your hands tremble.
Even when you feel small.

It’s okay to say no.
Even when you’re afraid.
Even when you don’t know what will happen next.
Even when they won’t stop.

It’s your body.
It’s your choice.
It’s your right.

The world begins in whispers,
a hush of dew across the blades,
soft-footed clouds curling above
a sky too shy to burn.

Dandelions hold their breath,
drifting wishes in golden pause,
while robins hum lullabies
to the waking hush of trees.

In this untouched hour,
the wind plays only gentle games,
skipping stones across the lake,
never daring to ripple the still.

There is no urgency here,
only the quiet kindness of time,
the sleepy smiles of sunbeams,
and the innocence of the world
before it remembers to rush.

You hear it, soft at first,
A whisper in the night,
A fluttering breath on your ear,
A wish that won’t take flight.
Love me,
Love  me.

The pulse quickens,
The shadows grow longer,
Each moment stretching
Like time has forgotten itself.
Love   me,
Love    me,
Love     me.

It clings like the air,
A taste on your tongue,
Unspoken, yet loud enough to drown.
The silence thickens—
Can you hear it?
Love      me,
Love       me,
Love        me,
Love         me.

It’s all that exists now,
A cage you can’t escape,
The need spirals deeper,
Faster, tighter,
Love          me.
Love           me.
Love          me.
Love         me,
Love        me.

The walls close in,
The words no longer hold weight,
Just a chant,
A prayer,
A broken record.
Love       me.
Love       me.
Love     me.
Love    me.
Love   me.
Love  me.

Love me?

When the clock strikes 12, the world exhales,
And silence spills through shadowed trails.
A hush falls soft on rooftops steep,
While stars begin their solemn sweep.

The moon slips on her silver veil,
A whisper carried by the gale.
Curtains dance to unseen hands,
As midnight casts its quiet demands.

Time bends in that fleeting chime,
A bridge between the day and time
Where secrets stir and spirits wake,
And dreams slip through the cracks they make.

Old wishes echo in the air,
Unspoken hopes, half-spun despair.
A fox tiptoes through garden dew,
The world turns dark, then strangely new.

Lovers kiss in borrowed light,
Owls take flight into the night.
The clock ticks on, a lullaby,
For those who ache, for those who cry.

When the clock strikes 12, beware—
Magic hums through midnight air.
And if you listen close, you’ll hear
The heartbeats of another sphere.

The walls don’t echo anymore.
The sound of your voice
used to cling to the corners
like dusk settling in the seams—
now there’s just
stillness
that chokes.

I say your name
like a dropped plate
shattering in an empty hallway—
and you
don’t
flinch.

The space between us
is crowded with things
you’ll never say.
Your silence is a scythe
trimming down
my worth.

Every glance you avoid
draws a chalk outline
around the version of me
you no longer see.

I water the air with apologies
that never bloom.
You offer nothing,
and still,
I bend
like sun-starved vines
toward the warmth
of nothing.

How loud you are
without a single word.

Step in—
my mind is an ocean
not blue—but a bleeding iridescence
of molten violets, rusted golds,
and bruised, unraveling ceruleans—
a palette spilled by a god having a dream.

You’ll see thoughts float here
like jellyfish lanterns,
soft, slow—laced in venom or velvet—
depending on how you look.

The sky never ends in here.
It folds like cracked parchment,
stretched over the aching arch
of my imagination’s bones.

There are trees made of bone-white whispers
and flowers with petals like flame-licked lace.
They bloom to the rhythm
of my pulse when I’m panicking,
and wilt under the weight
of a silence I can’t swallow.

There’s a path—
etched in the ink of dreams I didn’t chase—
it winds through forests of
regret-shaped branches
that scratch and caress all at once.

If you look to the left—
you’ll see a lake
made of every word I’ve never said.
It shimmers,
but only under the moon
of someone else’s approval.

Birds here don’t fly,
they unravel.
Each feather a fractured metaphor,
each call a dirge sewn with sunlight.

I hide in corners lit by memory—
a field of crooked constellations,
each one a version of me
you’ll never meet,
but will almost understand.

If you stay too long,
you’ll forget your name,
start to speak in echoes,
and dream in static.
But maybe that’s the point.
Maybe that’s the way
to really see me.

Oh, humble pen,
You are the voice of my silent thoughts,
A river of ink that flows with my dreams.
In your slender form,
Lies the power to birth worlds,
To carve emotions into paper's skin,
To whisper the secrets of my soul.


What are you, but a vessel of words?
Yet, within you, lives the spark of creation.
You dance across the page,
Trailing ideas like the stars in the night sky,
Binding them in the constellations of my mind.


Do you not see, oh simple pen,
The weight you bear?
More than just ink and metal,
You hold the essence of my being,
The dreams I dare not speak,
The fears I cannot name,
The love I yearn to share.


But what is love, without your gentle touch? 
Without you, the words remain trapped, 
Unformed, unspoken, 
Like a songbird caged within my heart. 


And yet, you are silent, 
Your power dormant until called upon, 
Resting in my hand, waiting, 
For the moment when thought meets ink, 
And the world shifts, 
From nothing to something, 
From silence to symphony. 


Oh, pen, do you know your worth? 
In your simplicity, you hold infinity, 
A universe within each stroke, 
A life within each line. 


And as you lie there, resting, 
Do you dream of the stories yet to be told? 
Do you yearn for the touch of my hand, 
To bring forth the tales locked within my heart? 
Or do you wait in quiet anticipation, 
For the next breath, the next thought, 
The next journey we shall embark on together? 


Oh, pen, You are more than just a tool, 
You are a companion, a confidant, 
The keeper of my deepest truths, 
The bridge between my mind and the world. 

 
In you, I find solace, 
In you, I find strength, 
In you, I find my voice. 


And so, I honor you, humble pen, 
For in your ink, I am reborn, 
With each word, 
each line, 
I become, 
I am, 
I write.

your breath is sunlight melting frost on my skin,
your silence—moonlight in a velvet sky,
quiet, yet immense,
a hush that makes the world listen.

i wandered through golden fields,
barefoot in the hush of morning,
dew-kissed and drowsy,
where clouds drift like old lullabies—
and you,
you were waiting at the edge of dusk,
painted in indigo.

we don’t chase,
we revolve.
a soft orbit,
sunrise in your laughter,
midnight in my gaze.
we meet in the in-between—
horizon-blue, dream-drenched,
the hush of stars watching.

your warmth never scorches,
your cool never chills.
just balance.
just breath.
just
us.

I miss you like the moon misses the tide—
drawn toward you in quiet gravity,
yet left to glow alone in the hush
of a sky too wide, too still, too far.

I miss you like wind through a field of lilies,
brushing soft petals that don’t respond.
Like a ghost breeze sighing through curtains,
hoping you might return through the door.

You are the fog in my early mornings,
the warmth my coffee fails to mimic,
the soft indentation in my pillow
where your dreams used to rest beside mine.

I miss you in colors—
in the pale peach of sunset clouds,
in the silver hush of midnight rain,
in the gold that glimmers through memory’s lace.

I miss you in textures—
in velvet air after thunder,
in the silk of whispered goodnights,
in the ache behind every slow breath.

You echo in the spaces between stars,
your name hidden in stardust trails,
your touch a distant hum in my bones—
faint, but ever pulsing beneath my skin.

Even time seems to unravel without you—
hours stretch like candle wax down my spine,
and every clock tick is a heartbeat
that forgets how to beat right without yours.

I find you in the oddest places—
a song half-heard on a street corner,
the scent of rain on a stranger’s coat,
a poem I didn’t mean to write, but did.

I miss you in ways I don’t know how to explain—
with a love that doesn’t settle,
a yearning that spills past language,
a soul ache that dreams of you in petals and tidepools.

And still,
somehow,
I keep missing you more.

I loved you like spring loves the thaw,
like lungs crave air,
like art bleeds from the soul of the artist.
And I thought love was enough
to keep the thorns from drawing blood.
I thought devotion would bloom into safety—
but I was only watering a graveyard.

The sickness started slow.
First, a cough—
a whisper of rose dust on my tongue.
Then came the petals,
delicate at first,
pink and trembling with hope.
I cradled them like confessions,
believed they were proof of love.

But they kept coming—
petal after petal,
each one heavy with what you wouldn’t give back.
You kissed me with a smile,
while my lungs filled with flowers
planted by hands that never loved me,
only held me for convenience,
for control,
for conquest.

You were a storm beneath soft skin,
a poison wrapped in perfume.
And I loved you—
God, I loved you,
even while you killed parts of me
with your indifference,
even before I knew the rot ran deeper
than abandonment.

Now I know.
Now I know what you are.
A ****** draped in sunlight,
a predator with a paintbrush smile.
You painted me pretty,
then picked me apart.
And I mistook the pain for passion,
your silence for mystery,
your selfishness for sadness.

My body remembers every time
you touched without love,
every moment I mistook trauma for intimacy.
The petals grew darker—
maroon now,
coated in blood,
choking me from within.

I coughed them into my hands,
and still whispered your name
as if you’d come back with kindness,
as if you were ever kind.

I don’t want to mourn you.
I want to mourn me—
the version of me who still believed in you,
who still thought love was supposed to hurt
but not like this.
Never like this.

Hanahaki, they call it—
the disease of unreturned love.
But this isn’t love anymore.
This is grief.
This is rage.
This is survival.

And someday,
someday I’ll breathe again,
clear-chested, flowerless,
free.

I’m sorry
I’m so sorry
I’m trying
I’m really trying

believe me

I gave in again
I gave in to the voices again
I—
cut myself again

please

please forgive me
please—
I didn’t mean to—
no, I did
but not like that
not to hurt you
but now it feels like I did

please don’t leave me

not like she did

please
stay a little longer
just a while
just—
forever?
I’ll get better, I promise

I promise

I just—
I can’t be alone
not in this house
not in this war-zone of a home
where voices break more than silence
where hands break more than glass

I—
I can’t stay here
or I fear—
no, I know—
the darkness will take me

please,
my love—
forgive me

you said
you’d never leave
you said
you’d stay
but what if one day
you get tired?

what if you see
I’m not something
you can fix?

what if
I never mend?

I don’t want to be like this forever.

but I’m scared

because all I’ve ever known
is hurt
instead of love

they were supposed to be better—
the ones who took us in
but the mother had fists like storms
and the father—
I don’t want to say it
but it stays inside me like rot

and now—
no, now I sound like I want pity
like I want someone to look at me
to see me

social media says
I’m an attention seeker
for saying this
for feeling this
for needing someone to listen

even my own therapist feels like a lie

what was I even talking about?

…oh

cutting myself

I got carried away, didn’t I?
I always do.

I’m just—
I don’t know
I don’t know how to stop
I don’t know how to let go

the grudge I hold—
it’s eating me alive

I’m sorry
I’m so sorry
I—

I put more scars into my body
again
again
again

if they find out
they’ll send me away
they’ll—

please
please don’t let them

please help me

please—

Maryann,
help me.

I don’t know how many ways
I can say please don’t go.
My voice is threadbare,
worn thin by the echo—
of every time I’ve begged
a heart to stay.

Please.
I won’t raise my voice,
I won’t ask for forever.
Just this moment.
Just tonight.
Just your hand in mine
a little longer
before it slips
again
into silence.

Please stay—
even if the light is fading,
even if the world pulls
and your shadow stretches
farther from me
with each breath.

I’ve sung this tune before,
a chorus cracked from overuse—
the needle stuck
on don’t leave me, don’t leave me,
and still, I press repeat,
like maybe this time
it’ll end in a different verse.

Please.
Let this love
be more than a passing song.
Let it be the one
that plays
without goodbye
in every beat of us.

Please stay.
I’ve already lost so much.
Don’t be the next
ghost I whisper to
when the music
cuts out.

Please.

Soft lullabies seep through the walls,
warped—distant—like voices underwater.
Fingers brush glassy skin,
but I can’t tell if they belong to me.

The air hums with a name I almost remember,
whispering in a language I used to know.
Something drips—tick, tick, tick—
but the clock’s hands are missing.

I step forward—
or maybe backward—
or maybe I don’t move at all.
My reflection flickers, too slow for the mirror,
folding inward like wet paper.

The room breathes.
The walls bend like candle wax.
A dove flutters behind my ribs,
but I can’t tell if it’s real.

Someone is calling.
Their voice sifts through my fingers like sand.
I open my mouth—
but the words fall straight through.

Everything is quiet.
Everything is slipping.
Everything is—

The petals open,
fragile as the thought of ending,
and the bloom sways,
unaware of the silence
growing around it.


Each breath is a weight,
pressing against the ribs,
like soil folding into the earth
underneath an endless sky.


The scent of death lingers
in the softness of the petals,
a sweetness too sharp,
too final.
It smells like surrender,
like the last exhale
before the body falls still.


The flower unfolds,
its beauty sharp as grief,
each layer a quiet plea
for release.
It opens with the same quiet violence
that consumes the soul,
waiting for a moment
when the pressure
becomes too much
to bear.


In the fading light,
you watch the petals curl,
and wonder if they, too,
wish to escape
the weight of their own bloom.


And yet, it's peaceful—
a slow descent
into the dark soil,
where the pressure finally stops,
and the bloom fades,
as all things must.

The sky hums in hush-toned hymns,
a low lullaby spilled from clouded lips,
each droplet a note pressed into the pavement,
a whispered memory stitched in silver.

Windows shiver with ghost-sung verses,
curtains breathing with the rhythm of sorrow,
and the wind—a cello bow against the bones of trees—
tunes the ache beneath the leaves.

My heart is a rooftop, dented with echoes,
each raindrop tapping a forgotten name.
Love trickles down the spine of gutters,
flooding the roots of things I tried to bury.

A sigh in the storm drapes over the hills,
a velvet hush, soft as moth wings on skin,
and puddles bloom like mirrored portals,
reflecting versions of us that never unraveled.

I walk through the hush, barefoot and blinking,
as the world dissolves in a watercolor blur,
clouds unraveling like old lullabies,
and time dripping slower beneath the storm’s spell.

A single leaf spins a slow waltz in the wind,
a dancer suspended in the music of mourning,
and somewhere, in the hush between thunder,
I hear the song you never finished singing.

The rain writes elegies in rivulets,
soft verses sliding down windowpane spines,
and though the storm may pass without promise,
I press my ear to the dusk,
and still, I listen.

I scrub my hands, the color stays,
a crimson thread through all my days.
No river drowns, no fire burns,
the past still twists, the memory turns.

Their voice still lingers in the air,
a fading ghost, a hollow prayer.
I trace the steps I can’t erase,
shadows whisper, time won’t chase.

The mirror sighs, it knows my name,
a hymn of blame beneath its breath.
And though the world still spins the same,
I bear the weight—I wait for death.

Dawn stretches golden over Guanabara Bay,
sugarloaf rising like a dream in stone.
Waves kiss the shore in samba rhythms—
each tide a whisper from the heart of Brazil.

Birdsong rains from the canopy,
scarlet macaws slicing morning light like brushstrokes.
The rainforest exhales its perfume—
a living mural swaying in greens and golds.

Cobblestone streets hum beneath bare feet,
colors bursting from murals and music.
The air tastes of mango and maracujá,
joy lingers in every sun-soaked laugh.

Ipanema gleams like a string of pearls,
bodies bronzed and basking in euphoria.
Even the breeze dances—
flirting with palms, curling through café songs.

From Lapa’s arches to Christ’s open arms,
the city holds you—wide-eyed, blooming.
And oh, to see Rio not just with eyes
but with your whole soul alight.

(This message could save a life.)

The keys are in your hand.
Do not start the engine.
Do not listen to the whispers.
Do not believe you’re fine.

The road stretches dark ahead.
Do not trust the lights.
Do not trust the speed.
Do not trust the alcohol in your veins.

The night is too quiet.
Do not glance at the phone.
Do not look away from the wheel.
Do not think you have time.

The crash comes suddenly.
Do not wait for the sirens.
Do not wait for the screams.
Do not wait for the glass to shatter.

The blood on the asphalt doesn’t wash away.
Do not look at the damage you’ve done.
Do not ask who you’ve hurt.
Do not ask if you’ll ever forgive yourself.

(This message could save a life.)

The sky does not always thunder,
some days it only hums—
a low lullaby in pastel blue,
resting on your windowpane.

There is beauty in stillness,
like dew-beads clinging to a spider’s thread,
fragile, glimmering, unseen
but alive.

You are not late.
The garden blooms when it’s ready—
not a moment before.
Even the moon takes its time
to become full.

So let yourself be tired.
Let the ache sit beside you.
It will not stay forever.
It knows you’re learning,
and learning is slow.

One day, the breath in your chest
will feel like enough.
The dawn will no longer feel
like a beginning you’ve missed.
You’ll sip morning light
and say,
I made it.

Not with fanfare,
not with fire—
but with soft feet
on soft earth,
and a heart that chose
to stay.

An absolute treasure,
Admirable, in every way,
With an affectionate heart,
And a presence alluring, bright as day.
An amiable soul,
With an angel face, so pure,
An angelic spirit,
A calm anchor, ever sure.

Appealing to all who meet,
An artistic touch, a heart so free,
With an artistic mind that dreams,
An aurora-bright light for me.
An awe-inspiring gaze,
My baby love, serene,
Balanced and beautiful,
A beacon of strength unseen.

My better half, you stand by me,
Big-hearted, full of grace,
Blooming with kindness,
Bold in every space.
Born of stardust, your soul’s a light,
Brave yet kind, you’re always right.
Breathtaking with every breath you take,
Your bright eyes make my heart awake.

You are brilliant, so bubbly,
A calming force,
The calm after chaos,
Like calm as snowfall, of course.
A calm-hearted lover,
Caring, always near,
A celestial light, so cheeky, so charming,
With a charming clown to cheer.

You’re classy, clever,
A comfort-maker, in every way,
Comforting, your touch is peace,
A comet-hearted friend to stay.
Considerate and cosmic beauty,
A cosmic magnet in my life,
A cozy feeling in your embrace,
Your courteous love ends all strife.

A cuddle magnet,
With Cupid’s charm,
You’re my cutie pie,
So dashing, with your arms.
You’re my day-maker,
A debonair dream,
Delightfully odd, so determined,
A devoted soul, it seems.

A diamond in the rough,
Distinct, a divine muse,
Your divine presence guides me,
Like a dream constellation, you diffuse.
My dreamboat, so dreamy,
A earth-woven spirit,
An eclipse of perfection,
So elegant with every merit.

Emotionally intelligent,
A embrace of calm you bring,
Empowering, you are always,
My enamoring king.
Enchanted prince, so endearing,
Energetic in spirit,
An entertaining soul,
Ethereal, a eternal flame to merit.

Exceptional, a being so rare,
You’re exceptional, beyond compare,
Eye-catching, so fearless you stand,
Fetching, your firelight soul expands.
So flawless, with a forest-humble soul,
Fresh as morning dew, you make me whole.
Friendly, always, fun-loving,
A galaxy-hearted being, rising above.

You’re gallant, a gem of light,
Generous, a genius, so gentle, too,
With a gentle breeze, and a gentle fire,
You bring me warmth, always true.
A gentle giant, your gentle presence,
Golden autumn warmth is yours,
A golden boy, golden-souled,
You are the one my heart adores.

So goofy, always gorgeous,
A graceful being, so grand in might,
Your gravity of love pulls me near,
So grounded, you’re my light.
A guardian angel,
Handsome as sin,
A harbor of peace,
With heart-holding within.

You’re my heart-lifter,
Heart-melting, you are pure,
A heart-resting peace,
So heart-soothing, for sure.
Heart-stopping, heart-throbbing,
Your heartwarming funny ways,
A heaven-sent gift,
A heavenly presence, always stays.

So helpful, so heroic,
The highlight of my life,
Honest-hearted, you bring honey-soul calm,
With your honey-toned voice, no strife.
A hope-restorer,
Iconic, you shine bright,
So impressive, my ink-stained dream,
With insightful, brilliant light.

You’re intelligent, irreplaceable,
A joy-bringer, full of cheer,
Joyful in spirit, so jovial,
You make every day bright, my dear.
You’re a jewel, so kindhearted,
With a knight of warmth in tow,
A laugh-creator, laugh-inducing,
Your leader-like love will always grow.

A legend in skin,
A legendary light,
Light in the dark,
You’re my light of my life, so right.
Light-bringer, my lighthearted love,
A love note in motion,
The love of my life,
You are my deepest emotion.

You’re love-struck, love-wrapped,
A lovebug, so lovesome, too,
Loving, loyal to the core,
My magic wrapped in skin, so true.
A magnificent, majestic force,
Matchless, mature and nurturing soul,
Mature beyond years, you are,
With a meadow-soft heart, whole.

Your mental beauty is clear,
So merciful, and mesmerizing,
A meteor of wonder,
With a mind-blowing soul, rising.
You’re mindful, so miraculous,
Missed even when near,
A modern-day hero,
With moonbeam eyes so dear.

A moonlit soul,
Mountain-strong with might,
Movie-star gorgeous,
You are my Mr. Right in sight.
My Mr. Wonderful,
My Apollo, you glow,
My calm after chaos,
You’re the light in my low.

My daylight in dusk,
My everything, you see,
My favorite sentence,
My heart, forever to be.
You’re my heart’s favorite song,
My home, my moon, so bright,
My muse, my safe chapter,
You are my heart’s light.

My safe rhythm,
My soft place, so dear,
My steady ground,
A myth brought to life, always near.
Mythical rarity,
Nurturing in grace,
Neat, you are,
Night-sky brilliance fills your space.

Noble, noble-looking,
With a northern light soul,
Observant, ocean-deep heart,
One-in-a-million whole.
One-of-a-kind, so orbit-worthy,
Out-of-this-world love shines,
Otherworldly lover,
You are forever mine.

Passionate, patient,
Peace-giver, so peaceful,
Peaceful warrior,
With a pegasus soul so beautiful.
Perfectly sculpted,
Perceptive, full of grace,
A petal-soft smile,
You are my perfect place.

Phenomenal, philosophical,
Picture-perfect every way,
You’re a pillow for the soul,
Playful, bright, night and day.
Pleasant, a poet’s dream,
So polished, precious, true,
Profound, protective,
Pure-hearted, all for you.

Quirky, quick-minded,
Quiet strength, always bright,
Quietly powerful,
You are my light.
Radiant, radiantly handsome,
Rain-kissed spirit, you shine,
A rare, ravishing soul,
Real and rooted, divine.

Reflective, regal,
Remarkable, a treasure untold,
Remarkably different,
Reliable, strong as gold.
You’re resilient, river-smooth,
Rooted and real,
My safe arms,
A safe haven, where I heal.

Safe space, secure and loving,
Selfless, sensational light,
Seraphic, a serene spirit,
You are my peace at night.
Serenity-bringer,
Sharp-witted and bold,
A shining light,
Your love is gold.

A shooting star soul,
So silly in the best way,
Singular, a smile-stirrer,
Your soft, kind heart leads the way.
A soft-spoken angel,
A softie, pure and true,
Solid-hearted,
Soul-connecting, you.

A soul-deep kind,
So soulful, bright and clear,
Soul-grounding, soul-nourishing,
You’re the love I hold dear.
Soul-saver, soul-softening,
Soul-soothing always,
You are the soulful light,
In my life’s endless maze.

A special soul,
Spellbinding, you stay,
Spirited, star-kissed,
A starboy in every way.
Your starlight smile
Is a stellar ray,
Steady, my steady and safe love,
You are my heart’s play.

So strong but soft,
With strong-minded grace,
Stunning, sublime presence,
A subtle strength in your face.
Sugar eyes, summer-sweet,
A sunbeam in human form,
You’re my sunshine,
My sunshine in human form—my warm.

Super cute,
Superb, my star,
Supportive, you’re my supreme,
My sweet as spring rain, you are.
Sweet-natured, my sweet soul,
A sweetheart, sweet-talking, too,
A symphony of kindness,
You make the world new.

You’re the color in my grayscale,
The hug I crave,
The line I’d always reread,
You’re the metaphor for joy, my wave.
The one, my poem I never stop writing,
The punctuation to my soul,
The rhythm in my soul,
You’re my heart’s goal.

The sigh between heartbeats,
The softest verse, so bright,
Thoughtful, thoughtful soul,
Thought-provoking light.
A thunder-hearted,
Titan of tenderness to hold,
You’re top-tier,
A tranquil, endless love, so bold.

You’re my treasure,
True gentleman, so right,
A true original,
Truehearted, my light.
You’re trustworthy,
Unforgettable in every way,
With your unique essence,
Unmatched, you forever stay.

Unparalleled, unrepeatable,
Unshakable love is yours,
Universe-wrapped,
Upright, my love restores.
Valuable, you’re valiant,
A visionary, so true,
Warm, my warm hug in human form,
Warmhearted, always you.

You’re a warrior of kindness,
So well-groomed, full of cheer,
Wild and beautiful,
A wildflower soul near.
Winsome, wise,
Wise beyond your years,
Wonderful,
World-class, through all my fears.

You are worthy,
Xenial in nature,
Welcoming and warm,
Xtraordinary, you shine,
A love beyond form.

Yearningly kind,
Your heart always true,
Yellow-sun smile,
Brightens the world, too.

A love like none before,
My zen,
You are my heart’s core.
Zenith of love,
A zen-like presence, so sweet,
Zealous for life,
You make me complete.

Your eyes hold galaxies untold,
A story written soft in gold.
Your laughter spins like whispered spells,
A melody where wonder dwells.

Your touch ignites a world anew,
A spark that burns in deepest blue.
No logic here, no earthly rule—
Just magic made when I found you.

And in your arms, the world unwinds,
A dream made real, a fate designed.
No greater trick, no grander art,
Than love that lifts and binds the heart.

I placed my faith within your hands,
each promise carved in sacred stone.
Yet time has turned them into sand,
and now I stand here, lost, alone.

You spoke in silk, in honeyed air,
but all your words were woven lies.
A dagger laced with love and care,
hidden well behind your eyes.

I stitched the wounds, I bit my tongue,
still tasting rust, still breathing ache.
Some ghosts may haunt, but you, my love,
you chose to watch me break.

The sky spills liquid gold across the fields,
and every blade of grass hums a bright song,
ripples of honey laughter swim through the air,
as the trees burst into wild, kaleidoscopic blooms.

Clouds skip like stones across a sapphire lake,
the wind flutes silver melodies through the valley,
and the mountains wear crowns of glittering flame,
grinning, howling, singing at the top of their lungs.

The rivers are ribbons of melted stars,
the earth quivers with candy-colored sparks,
and hearts—oh, hearts!—
they pop like fireworks in a velvet sky,
sending ripples of giggling stardust everywhere.

Every breath tastes of spun sugar and sunlight,
every blink unwraps a prism of newborn wonder,
and my soul—my soul!—
is a thousand kites soaring, shrieking, bursting,
carried far beyond the hills of happiness.

A child’s laugh, a dandelion’s flight,
The first soft touch of morning light.
A hummingbird’s wings, a sigh in the breeze,
The rustling hush of autumn trees.

The way your fingers brush through mine,
The sweetness held in borrowed time.
Happiness hums in the simplest things,
In teacup warmth and sparrow wings.

The world may rush, the clock may race,
But joy is found in time’s embrace.
A fleeting glance, a quiet tune,
The silver glow beneath the moon.

A hush upon the water’s crest,
where morning spills in golden rest,
a figure drifts in light’s embrace—
a dancer poised in fluid grace.

She bends, she sways, a feathered sigh,
her alabaster wings comply,
each ripple waltzes at her feet,
as if the lake and she compete.

No step misplaced, no hurried flight,
she moves as if she weighs but light,
a whisper in the dawn’s repose,
where every motion softly flows.

Yet in the dusk where moonlight wanes,
another shadow breaks the chains.
A glint of coal, a sharpened glide,
a phantom in the silver tide.

Her beauty sings a darker song,
a wilder pulse, both fierce and strong.
No fragile twirl, no measured bow—
she rules the water, here and now.

She cuts the lake with silent power,
the night bends low, the stars turn sour.
A haunting echo in her wake—
a ghost of grace, a breath to take.

One swan to soothe, one swan to strike,
one day, one night, both wrong, both right.
Two echoes spun from fates untold—
one draped in white, one cloaked in gold.

Drizzle me in honeyed gold,
let caramel ribbons lace my skin,
warm and slow as they trickle down—
a river of molten sugar, pooling in bliss.

The air is thick with vanilla hush,
soft as sifted powdered snow,
melting on my tongue like a whispered dream,
light as spun sugar caught in the breeze.

Bite into the velvet hush of chocolate—
dark as midnight, rich as sin,
a decadent flood that lingers and sighs,
coating lips in satin warmth.

Strawberries glisten, ruby-bright,
dipped in white chocolate sighs,
their **** kiss softened by cream’s embrace,
blushing beneath the moon’s silver glow.

Golden crusts crack beneath the fork,
pastry flaking into a buttery hush,
as custard spills in silken waves,
folding sweetly into waiting hands.

A swirl of cinnamon dances in air,
twisting in clouds of sugar and spice,
as soft dough blooms in golden spirals,
cradled in the warmth of the oven’s arms.

And in this feast of sugared dreams,
where every taste is a lullaby,
let me drown in the amber glow
of honeyed nights and caramel skies.

Joy is a sunflower in bloom,
a burst of yellow laughter in the throat of dawn—
it dances barefoot through fields
where even the scarecrows smile.

Sadness seeps in shades of blue,
an ocean swallowing lullabies whole,
waves cradling broken boats
and the moon’s reflection—shivering.

Anger is a match lit red,
flickering like a war drum’s pulse,
a wildfire in the chest,
burning bridges before they’re crossed.

Fear creeps in gray,
a mist dragging its feet through alleyways,
whispers behind curtains,
the silence before a scream.

Love is crimson spun with rose,
a heartbeat wrapped in silk,
sometimes soft, sometimes savage—
a fire that kisses and consumes.

Peace wears the hush of lavender light,
a hammock beneath wind-whispered trees,
a breath drawn slowly,
unfolding like petals in spring.

Hope is the color of sky brushed gold,
a sunrise you almost missed,
a window cracked open
in a room you thought was locked.

Loneliness is the aching indigo,
stars you can see but never touch,
a winter coat with no one inside,
quiet as a room full of eyes.

Jealousy glints a poison green,
a vine curling where it’s not wanted,
something sour behind the smile,
a mirror cracked just slightly.

Gratitude glows in soft orange,
a hearth with arms,
warmth that hums
even when the fire’s low.

Shame is a dusty blush of muted brown,
an old coat you never meant to wear,
muddy footprints you try to clean
before anyone sees.

Confidence roars in emerald and royal violet,
a cloak stitched with thunder,
feet firm on the earth
as the sky bends to meet your eyes.

The sun still rose—did you know that?
A dull, indifferent thing,
spilling light over hollow places
that once held your shadow.

They found your coat on the chair,
your shoes by the door,
as if you meant to return.

The air was thick with silence,
the kind that hums in empty rooms,
pressing against the walls
where your voice used to be.

Someone called your name by accident.
Someone set a place at the table.
Someone swore they heard your footsteps
on the stairs.

And I—
I watched the world keep spinning,
watched birds lift into the sky
as if nothing had been lost,
as if the earth had not swallowed
a universe.

The ice will melt, the seas will rise,
The fires will spread beneath the skies,
The ice will melt, the seas will rise,
And swallow what’s left of our goodbyes.

The bombs will fall, the war drums beat,
The hunger roams the crowded streets,
The bombs will fall, the war drums beat,
And scatter all we thought was sweet.

The air is thick, the forests burn,
The soil will crack and never turn,
The air is thick, the forests burn,
And no one’s left to mourn or learn.

The leaders fight, the nations break,
The lies they spread, the lives they take,
The leaders fight, the nations break,
And no one cares for freedom’s sake.

The waves will crash, the crops will die,
The children’s cries are lost in the sky,
The waves will crash, the crops will die,
And no one asks the reasons why.

The guns will roar, the blood will spill,
The streets will echo with the chill,
The guns will roar, the blood will spill,
And hope will vanish, stark and still.

The earth will crack, the heavens fall,
The cities crumble, one and all,
The earth will crack, the heavens fall,
And no one hears the final call.

The news will spin, the lies will spread,
The digital wars will fill with dread,
The news will spin, the lies will spread,
And truth is lost, our minds misled.

The voices scream, the tears will flow,
As we unravel, slow and low,
The voices scream, the tears will flow,
And the world ends with no one to know.

The missiles launch, the skies ablaze,
The tyrants rise, we fall to gaze,
The missiles launch, the skies ablaze,
As borders close and hope decays.

The blood will spill, the bodies burn,
The genocides, they never turn,
The blood will spill, the bodies burn,
As refugees with nowhere yearn.

The lies are loud, the truths erased,
The leaders’ words, a hollow face,
The lies are loud, the truths erased,
As corruption eats at every place.

The oceans choke, the skies turn black,
The polar ice will never track,
The oceans choke, the skies turn black,
And ecosystems fall off track.

The forests die, the insects fade,
The rivers dry, no hope is laid,
The forests die, the insects fade,
And nature’s toll is fully paid.

The banks collapse, the debts will rise,
The homeless roam with vacant eyes,
The banks collapse, the debts will rise,
As wealth divides beneath the lies.

The shelves are bare, the crops will fail,
The markets crash, the ships turn pale,
The shelves are bare, the crops will fail,
And hunger spreads beneath the wail.

The shots ring out, the streets are torn,
The bloodied cries, the youth are worn,
The shots ring out, the streets are torn,
And hatred thrives where love was sworn.

The children starve, the women weep,
The suffering’s vast, too deep to keep,
The children starve, the women weep,
As death is sold and souls to reap.

The screens will flash, the truth’s erased,
The mind’s enslaved, the soul misplaced,
The screens will flash, the truth’s erased,
And privacy’s a stolen grace.

The codes will break, the AI reigns,
The jobs are lost, the fear remains,
The codes will break, the AI reigns,
And human hands are bound in chains.

The idols rise, the people fall,
The souls are lost in empty thrall,
The idols rise, the people fall,
As substance dies and skins appall.

The hearts are numb, the minds are cold,
The stories fade, the truths are sold,
The hearts are numb, the minds are cold,
And vanity is bought, not gold.

The churches burn, the temples fall,
The faith is lost, no prayer to call,
The churches burn, the temples fall,
As lies are sold beneath the pall.

The cults arise, the masses sway,
And faith is twisted, led astray,
The cults arise, the masses sway,
As reason fades and faith decays.

The plagues will rise, the sickness spreads,
The bodies fall, the doctor dreads,
The plagues will rise, the sickness spreads,
And medicine’s a ghost instead.

The children’s cries, the wounds will fester,
The cures are gone, the doctors’ muster,
The children’s cries, the wounds will fester,
As life is snatched by every bluster.

The skies are dark, the hearts are still,
The hopelessness, an endless hill,
The skies are dark, the hearts are still,
And time slips past against our will.

The fear will grow, the shadows long,
The meaning lost, the world is wrong,
The fear will grow, the shadows long,
And we are left to weep our song.

A dandelion’s wish floats in the breeze,
Dancing through sunlight and soft summer air,
Whispering tales of the places it’ll be,
Carried by winds that wander with care.

Upon a breath, it twirls in the light,
Sailing ‘bove meadows, o’er mountains so wide,
A fragile traveler in the still of the night,
Dreaming of lands where its dreams may reside.

It sways with the rhythm of skies so vast,
A tiny spark in the world’s grand design,
Ever fleeting, it drifts from the past,
Seeking a future where roots can entwine.

A moment it lingers, a sigh in the air,
Then onward it sails, with no time to stay,
Lost in the journey, in a whisper so fair,
The seed in the wind, forever astray.

The sun barely rises,
casting a soft glow across the table,
the air thick with the scent of syrup,
a warm, comforting embrace.
On my plate, the pancakes—
fluffy, golden stacks,
like little clouds kissed by the earth,
drizzled with dark, rich chocolate,
a bittersweet sweetness
clinging to the edges like memories.
Whipped cream swirls like soft cotton,
cascading in graceful heaps,
while strawberries, red as a fleeting sunset,
sit nestled atop like the last bloom
before winter’s breath.

A sip of hot chocolate,
dark and creamy,
curling steam rising like the breath of life,
whipped cream crowned with syrup,
a spoonful of warmth
that holds the promise of comfort,
a taste of home in every drop.

Each bite is a surrender,
the world softening,
blurring, fading with every chew.
The sweetness, the richness,
mingling with the faintest hint of finality—
my last meal, my last taste
of earth’s tender gifts.

As I eat, I watch the room,
the last sunrise casting long shadows,
its golden light touching things
that once held so much meaning—
a chair, a book, a photograph.
And I wonder if this moment,
this simple breakfast,
will be the last I ever know,
and if it’s enough
to carry me through
the final breath.

She stands at the edge of the grove,
barefoot in the soft, damp earth.
The sky has darkened, an ink-stained veil,
and the air is heavy with whispers
of things not yet spoken.

He steps from the shadows,
the pomegranate cradled in his hand,
as if it were a heart still beating.
Its skin glints like polished blood,
each curve a promise she does not understand.

He smiles—not with his mouth, but his eyes,
the kind of smile that unravels secrets.
He holds out the fruit, the distance between them
as thin as a thread pulled taut.
“Try it,” he says. “It’s sweet as summer rain.”

She hesitates, her fingers trembling
above its smooth, red skin,
caught between the impulse to reach,
to know, to taste—and the warning,
some echo of a voice she barely remembers.

“Just a taste,” he breathes,
and his voice is the rustle of leaves,
the call of something deeper than words.
She presses her thumb into the fruit,
and it yields, a dark, red river
running down her wrist.

He watches as she lifts the seeds
to her mouth, her lips stained
in a shade she’s never worn before.
The burst of juice, sharp and sweet,
washes over her tongue—a flood, a fever.

And she feels it then, the shift—
the earth beneath her is no longer soft,
but hard and cold, like stone.
The taste of the pomegranate lingers,
the sweetness turning to ash,
something bitter lodged in her throat.

He steps closer, his hand on her cheek,
a gesture almost tender.
“You wanted this,” he says,
and she knows he’s right, though she cannot say why.

The grove is silent, the night deepening,
the stars like distant eyes watching.
She looks at him, and then at the empty husk
in her hand, the seeds scattered at her feet
like drops of blood on snow.

She does not speak.
There is nothing left to say.
Only the taste, the lingering memory
of sweetness, and the slow, heavy beat
of something lost.

I was shaped by a quiet ache,
a hollow that stretches with each breath,
a yearning seeded long before I had words
to name it.

There’s a pulse beneath my skin,
a slow, relentless rhythm,
like waves reaching for a shore
they’ve never touched.
It stirs at dusk,
when shadows lengthen
and the world slips into silence.

I’ve felt it, the flicker of something distant,
a glow like a match struck in darkness,
faint but alive,
a promise of warmth
in the chill of an empty room.

I dream of a place I’ve never seen,
its edges blurred, fading as I reach—
a moment that hovers, suspended
just beyond waking.
There’s a voice there,
not mine but familiar,
whispering of things yet to come,
of an end to the waiting.

The night is long and still,
its weight presses down on me,
a shroud that I wear
even in daylight.
I move through it, restless,
my hands outstretched,
searching for something
to fill the space inside.

I was born with this thirst,
a quiet, endless pull
toward the unknown,
like a moth drawn to a light
it can never hold.

And so I wander,
eyes fixed on the horizon,
chasing the faint glow that flares
only when the dark surrounds me.
I linger at the edge,
listening for a call
that I have waited lifetimes to hear.

The emptiness remains,
a companion, an old friend,
its hunger a reminder
of all the things I have yet to find.
I carry it with me, this quiet thirst,
unsated, unanswered,
as the dawn creeps in
and the world stirs to life.

A hand stretched out, a whispered word,
A kindness given, barely heard.
A smile that blooms, a heart that sways,
A single spark to light the way.

No gift too small, no act too slight,
To turn the dark into the light.
For kindness flows like rivers wide,
A touch, a hope, a love untied.

A thread of warmth, a simple start,
Can mend a soul, can heal a heart.
The ripples spread beyond our view,
A kindness given, one made new.

No one noticed when we slipped beneath the tide,
our bodies weightless, swaying slow,
the world above a distant hush—
only the hush, only the glow.

Seahorses curl like secrets in the deep,
golden spines bending with the waves,
we let the water braid our hands,
a quiet promise, softly saved.

The current hums a lullaby,
your voice dissolves into the blue,
I turn to you, you turn away—
what else is there for us to do?

No one noticed when the sky let go,
when salt became the air we breathed,
the ocean held us, gentle ghosts—
and never asked if we would leave.