You sit beside me
like a flame behind glass,
close enough to warm,
too hot to touch.

There is softness in you,
but I’ve learned
it’s not mine to hold.
It lives in the quiet between gestures,
a half-turned head,
a question swallowed
before it breaks the surface.

I memorize the way you sleep,
not because I’m afraid you’ll leave,
but because I know you already do,
in moments,
in silences,
in the way your body curls away
when you dream.

You love me
the way the moon loves the sea:
constant,
but pulling.
And I pretend not to feel the tide
dragging pieces of me out
just to reach you.

Sometimes I think
if I could just hold your name
long enough
in my mouth,
you’d remember what it felt like
to be held.

But I don’t say that.
I just sit beside you,
smiling soft,
while all this beauty aches inside me
with nowhere to go.

Treating ourselves with respect is essential for leading a happy and healthy life.

Learning sth new with you
Every day,
Facing situations
That would freak me out
You're guiding
Me with my fears
Through the crowd
Showing me
how easy
Life can be.

With you I become ready
To face the worst
To go through and beyond
The universe
To find magnificence
In all of it
No matter how
One would label it.

Love transforms.

Love brings about change and transformation and flow.

Because by loving we allow the space for everything that exists. No judgement.

Love is the space all around and it is not wanting to change anything.

This way the one who loves is free and gives freedom.

I refuse to listen to the self-harming negative talk in my mind.
I keep refocusing my attention on how I want to talk to myself instead.

For me,
Writing is like praying
in the middle of a tragedy.
When the world has cracked upon.
When something breaks
that words can't fix,
but must weave them together.

Tragedy doesn't ask for beauty,
Only truth.
Even if that truth is trembling,
Fragmented,
Barely breathing
on the page.

The blank document becomes a place
where I can speak
to something
or someone
without needing a reply,
Without having to explain myself,
Without apologizing
for the mess of it all.

Some people write to move on.
I write to stay,
to sit behind these ruins
and whisper:
"I saw this,
It mattered.
It hurts like hell."
And in those moments
writing about lost love
or people who are gone
but never truly absent
something shifts.

I find GOD there,
or maybe GOD finds me
in the wreckage.
Not in thunder,
not in easy answers,
but in that quiet breath
between one word and next
In the space where honesty lives.

I am at peace with who I am.