my love for him
is intricately woven
into my body.
the loose ends are
tied in a perfect bow
on top of my heart.

the smell lures you in.
all you want is food
until you're suddenly
fighting for your life.
you can never catch a breath
without someone behind you.
because when you rest
for even one second
that's when they strike.

when you've been trained on a minefield
other places will have you on the tips of your toes.
trying not to talk, look, or even breathe wrong
in case a mine explodes -
even if there are no mines.
to avoid the mines you've been taught to expect,
you compress until you can't move -
even if there are no mines.
your heart and soul lose air.
you minimize your emotions until
you're convinced they're not there.

yet you're allowed to take up space.
take up all the space you need.
your heart and soul don't just need air;
they need shelter, food, and water.
your emotions need room
to expand and contract.
your voice can project and flourish
until your confidence lights up the room.
you deserve spaces where you can just be.
not every place is a minefield.

words trapped within thick layers of ice
are embraced by the warmth of spring.
they can finally breathe and be free.

their laughter drifts into the air.
her honey irises sparkle
every time his smile
warms up the room.
these moments with him
form sugar crystals.
the crystals are kept
close to her heart
as her love for him grows.

sadness grips my neck in a choke-hold
its hands cold and rough to the point in which
I don't know if I can escape with life left in me.

her teeth chattered
as the frigid wind
surrounded her.
he traced her wrists,
then held her hands.
her teeth fell silent
as his eyes met hers.
in that moment,
she knew he would stay
even during the winter.

I wanted a doctorate,
one that specialized in him -
to know him so thoroughly
that the lines on his palms were
ones I could recite in my sleep
I was so close to getting it.

His voice caught my attention.
"What?" he asked kindly.
"Oh, nothing," I said nonchalantly
as I averted my eyes,
kept the blossoming love hidden.
I resolved to try another day.

remember the mountains you've climbed,
the valleys, the deserts, the cold nights,
everything you've been through to reach here.
bring the lessons, the people you love,
anything you need for the journey ahead,
and greet the new year at the summit.

she stops at a plateau.
everywhere she looks, she sees
distinct memories from her past.
to the left are cotton candy skies,
fields of rainbow gumdrops.
straight ahead are the ruins,
ash and tar darkening the land.
to the right are serene clouds
paired with flashes of lightning.
she's not sure if there are
mountains or valleys ahead,
but after seeing her past,
and who she is now,
she's ready to continue her journey.

whenever their words are sandpaper
that aggressively rubs her heart
and forms stinging cuts,
her hands always reach for
her soft, fluffy, warm blanket.
as it envelops her in its warmth,
her heart heals the cuts
and becomes soft again.

a dull ache, 
a crashing pain.
wistfulness from afar,
love from within.
a smile with watery eyes
disguising the heartache. 
tales pass through lips,
minds strengthening memories.
imagining him at your side,
knowing he won't be there,
but wondering anyway.
wanting to see the past
and stay in the present 
and experience the future.
thinking about whether 
you're meant to be
or if the finality will reign.
weather, cities, 
conversations, the world,
bringing you back 
to memories with him. 
his special touch 
stayed with you - 
and it will always stay.

my love for him
infused itself into  
the natural melody
of my voice.
I wonder if he noticed.

she didn't see him slithering.
her heart was pounding,
but everything seemed fine
until she felt him
coiling around her
tighter and tighter
until she couldn't breathe.

she clutched a pocketknife.
with the last drop of
strength she had,
she slashed him
and he slithered away.
after she caught her breath,
she realized he was a snake.

it illuminated all,
hid nothing
her first instinct:
close the blinds
and her eyes.
  
after a while
she opened the blinds.
her eyes followed suit,
squinting, adjusting,
taking in her surroundings.

the light shook hands
with the darkness
its touch healed,
helping her produce
light of her own.

the threads connecting us
to our loved ones
need to stay strong
like spider's silk
to survive this battle.

to read my past journal entries is
to walk on an intimately familiar path,
one in which I know the major landmarks,
the steep mountains, and the deep valleys.

even though I can walk on this path
with my eyes closed and get through,
I don't. I slow down on the way,
noticing flowers I didn't see before.

I pluck a leaf off every flower stem,
and keep it safely between my palms.
the leaves remind me of the flowers
that grew despite the harsh conditions.

whenever I wish for a new beginning,
I blow on a leaf and let it guide me.
I smile, exhale, and walk forward.
behind me, new flowers are blooming.

underappreciated-
most do not see her beauty -
their dreams pull them away.
some eyes burn from the midnight oil -
to them, she may seem like a hallucination.
others run too quickly to start a conversation.
a rare few wait for her -
they appreciate her beauty,
continuing the conversation in awe.
she does not live for the people of this earth,
but she provides for them no matter what.

life is a voyage across the sea.
you may end up in a storm.
you try to control your ship
when you hear the siren
taunting you with promises.

"you don't need to face this."
"there's an easy way out."
"you can give up."
"let the wind take you."
"what's the point of this?"

those promises are weightless.
you know the siren will lead you
into what seems like your paradise,
then throw you off the ship
and leave you to the sharks.

even as that voice tempts you,
listen to the hopeful voice inside you,
the one that reminds you of your power.
"it may be difficult right now,
but this storm won't last forever."

you can then adjust your sails,
tell your crew what you need,
and safely get through the storm's eye.
when you get through, the storm fades.
the sunshine warms you up, and you sail.

she walks into an abyss.
the light slowly fades -
she barely notices.

she starts to run
as her breathing quickens.
she claws at the abyss,
hoping for a way out.

she hears a voice,
soft yet secure,
that guides her.
the light appears as
she takes small steps.

she keeps walking
until the light engulfs her.
she is free.

the breeze tickles her hair 
and takes her worries with it. 
the sun wants a break
just for a little while.
she misses the sun,
but knows it needs a minute.
she'll be here when it's ready.

she yells from the bottom of a well,
thinking someone will hear her.
no one does, so she climbs.

as she's climbing, she hears a voice
that voice sends her tumbling
toward the bottom of the well.

she yells until she can't anymore
bursts into tears, curls up into a ball -
and desperately wants to be heard.

they burned my heart
over and over again
until the ashes fell,
slumping over in defeat.

even as pain radiates
through my entire body,
the ashes rise into a phoenix,
and my heart takes flight again.

he helped me untangle
the knots in my mind
just by being there.

the vibrant plants
and talkative animals
cleared a path for her.
she followed that path
for a while, then paused.
she sat at the bank of the river
watching the leaves go by.
she placed her fears,
doubts, and troubles
onto these leaves,
whispered "goodbye,"
and let them float away.

the present world
can pull you back in time -
sometimes a gentle pull,
sometimes a hard yank
to remind you of the past.

you take a trip
to meet your past self.
you watch her love,
grow, make mistakes -
she and you are one.

then you take a deep breath,
whispering a farewell
to your past self.
you walk through time,
returning to the present.

my trust is like waves of the ocean.
they meet the sand at the shore,
then run away faster than ever.
if the waves are too strong,
will the sand vanish...
or will it be pulled by the waves?

it's a massive sigh,
almost an exhale of stress.
it's the tension unraveling 
from knotted shoulders.
it's when hearts stop running 
and simply stroll.
it's the moment of recovery
between profuse tears 
and hopeful reassurance.
it's the drop of calm 
that spreads over the lake.
it's when the sun stretches its rays 
from behind the clouds.
it's the beginning of the end
and the start of a new beginning.

neither.
her body froze over,
attempting to protect her.
it became a block of ice,
waiting for him to leave.
when he did,
she slowly, carefully
chipped at the ice.
some parts of her
are still frozen,
but she's walking
towards the sun.

my hometown has a straight edge,
obedient new kid vibe -
one that other cities hate.
yet it resides in my heart,
its memories forming
the shape of who I am today.

then...
was intangible
less than a spirit
its voice inaudible
color exited life.

now...
is truly tangible
a spirit with a bright aura
its voice so enticing and loud
that color is entering life again.

the waves lulled her
into a restful state
until she woke up
deep in the ocean
with tangled seaweed
around her.

"is this how it'll end?"
"no," a voice whispered.
her body valiantly fought
to reach the surface.
she took a much needed breath
as the waves carried her to the shore.

our paths diverged for a while.
experiences and wisdom made their marks 
weaved themselves into our history. 
self reflection and maturity 
decluttered the space that we now inhabit.

when our paths converged again,
I was reeling from the impact.
my eyes and heart voraciously
immersed themselves in who he had become. 
the smallest details were of the most interest.

the convergence added to our foundation. 
the shared experience was sewn 
somewhere in the tapestry of our lives.
the bright red thread of our meeting
will always catch my eye.

on some days,
my feelings spill
over the rim of
the vessel that is my body,
so I compress them
until they're ready to burst.

then I relax and remind myself:
my feelings need space.
the people who have space
will reach into the vessel
and help you hold them
until everything is okay again.

the inner voice whispers,
"tell them you're struggling."
my vocal cords are warmed up,
ready to give life to the words.
but the hand over my mouth
is an impermeable barrier
set by the critical voice
that is fueled by fear.

the people who should protect her
stare into her exhausted eyes 
and hammer nails into her heart.
chains bearing obligation and trauma
coil tighter and tighter around her ankles. 
resisting worsens the sensation -
almost cutting off the circulation
until the pain is so great 
that numbness takes over,
which leads to not resisting,
which feels like resignation - 
and the cycle keeps going.
all she wants is to run freely 
until the nails and chains
are distant memories 
that she will never
pass on to anyone else.

the glass dome felt safe
the outside world
couldn't get in.
she could see
that outside world.
she never wanted it
until she noticed
the first crack in the dome.
she sat and watched.
after seeing more cracks,
she touched the dome.
the touches increased in force
until everyone heard
her sharp elbows
pounding on the glass.
she grew stronger
until, finally,
she broke the dome.
she's free now.

my heart spills its feelings
similar to how blood flows.
my cheeks turn scarlet
as my eyes take him in.
the hue of my thoughts
is the color of love.

my mind is the city
that never sleeps.
thoughts roam the streets -
some with circular commutes.
some glare at each other
some smile, uplifting everyone.
despite the chaotic rhythm,
the underlying beat of my heart
determines the pace of the city.

his heart flowed from his fingertips
as he stood in front of the choir.
when the applause started,
an angel only visible to her
crowned him with a halo.
her heart saw the purest,
whitest light as it ascended.
every cell in her body knew
one truth in that moment -
this was the start of her first love.

when she was younger,
she thought growing up
was the extinction of
her younger selves
to create an adult self.

now she knows
these past selves
are living within her
and will always be there
as her new self keeps evolving.

she needs to host reunions
and invite her younger selves -  
for fun and memories,
laughter and spontaneity,
to remember her roots.

the tree grew in rocky soil -
now its fruit is decaying.
its seeds fell into
the same rocky soil,
sprouting into trees
with the same decaying fruit.

these trees feel the decay.
they know to spread their seeds
where the soil is fertile.
and the resulting trees
will bear ripe fruits
for future generations.

they push and push and push you
until you wonder where the light is,
if there's an end in sight,
if you should create that ending.
you're tired of wearing yourself thin,
of sacrificing your health for others,
of not being able to breathe.

when the madness echoes
from the walls of your mind,
you extend your hand for help.
you may think you're alone,
but you'll feel another hand in yours.
they'll help you find your way,
and you'll be okay.

he wanted to see if we were on the same page.
meanwhile, I was reading a different book.
its past chapters made me wince in pain,
which lived - unhealed - within me.
as his fingers lightly caressed the pages,
he whispered, "acknowledge the pain,
then close the book. you can't live like this.
we can get through this and read the same page."
I turned to the past chapters, heart pounding in fear.
instead of wincing and hurrying to the end,
I read those pages, absorbed every word,
understood the story, acknowledged its lessons,
and released it to make room for a new story.
then - and only then - I closed the book.
I kept the lessons and sat next to him.
he showed me the book he was reading from,
and now we're finally reading from the same page.

the brain is a filter
severing unhelpful connections
we try to hold the smoke
of rapidly fading memories
yet it passes through our fingertips.

since we worry about what we lack
the loss of memories may create a void
yet that same void can hold
new, tangible memories
ones that help us grow.

her hands lost their balance.
an unnoticeable tremor
pumped through her fingers.
as she waited for him to arrive,
she wondered if the time apart
made him a foreign place.

when he finally arrived,
and important tales were shared,
and his smile lit up her heart,
her hands found their balance.
he felt like a home again,
even after all these years.

yes. to escape the compression
of my identity, my voice, my freedom.
this compression is restricting
my breath. I'm at 1% now. 

all I want is to breathe
without the trauma coursing
through my body -
to stay away from the
physical embodiment of my pain -
to confide in certain people
without being blamed, minimized,
invalidated, shut down, or told off.

I don't know if
the last dream will come true. 
but i'm waiting for the day
when the other ones do. 
that day will be 
written in my history.

but for now,
the hope keeps me going.

she stood in front of the headstone,
the past whispering in her ears,
encouraging her to remember the unsaid.
her strained eyes rested for a second
as she heard footsteps quietly approaching.

she looked up at the last person she expected to see
his eyes were rimmed with pain, his face stained with tears
he took one look at her, and he crumpled to the floor.
she stared at his heart, which, for the first time,
was weakly beating on his sleeve.
dagger-like shards poked out
atop numerous bruises and scars.

she took him into her arms, closing her eyes,
caressing his heart with gentle fingers
after a while, she whispered, "you okay?" and he said,
"I saw you here for years, and I couldn't approach you.
You would leave, and I would visit this headstone
right after you, and the sins weighed me down.
I finally had the strength to approach you today.
You can leave me here - it's your choice."

she looked directly into his eyes, tears streaming down her face.
her voice broke as she said, "I'm not leaving you here.
You can release these sins and we can walk together.
You can heal your heart, and I will stand with you."
she felt his heart pounding, saw the doubt in his eyes.
she stood up and extended her hand towards him.
he placed his hand in hers and rose to meet her.
they quietly prayed in front of the gravestone,
then walked away, hands intertwined.

behind them, the spirit -
the inhabitant of the gravestone -
smiled and began her ascent,
surrounded by the purest,
whitest, all-encompassing light.

sadness took my hand
and refused to let go.
I couldn't stop shivering,
and she was the reason why.
I acknowledged her words
then told her, "it's not you, it's me,"
let go of her hand, and felt warm again.

"i think i'm over you. i still imagine telling you everything, but without an undercurrent of romantic love. in my mind's eye, innocent smiles replace the longing stares. hugs replace the imagined romance. honesty replaces the moments when my tongue was tucked away within my palm.
sometimes my mind sings a sad song, which sends chills through my body and cracks my heart in the right places. the pain seeps through, and it hurts to breathe.
yet as my eyes succumb to the quiet pull of slumber, i see the light. when i wake up the next morning, my mind is clear, and my heart is free."