Listening, truly hearing, and validating others are more than just transactional actions; they are pathways to deeper connection and understanding. As I navigate relationships in my life, be it as a brother, father, friend, or romantic partner, I recognize the invisible barriers that often obstruct meaningful communication. These barriers are rooted in assumptions, judgments, or emotional distractions that distance us from one another.

With my parents, the distance is palpable. It’s not simply a physical separation but an emotional one, built over years of unmet expectations and miscommunications. Listening, I’ve learned, involves more than just being present; it’s about silencing my inner critic and fears long enough to truly hear them, to understand their perspectives without immediately reacting or defending. This is where the challenge lies: how do I open myself to a history that’s been difficult, without letting it consume me?

My siblings have always been my emotional anchors. Here, I’ve discovered the importance of validation; not just through words but through actions and shared experiences. In these relationships, we’ve built a foundation of trust, and I’ve realized that validating their experiences means offering empathy without judgment, even when I don’t fully understand. In return, I’ve felt their unwavering support through the darkest moments of my life.

With my daughter, as a single father, listening has taken on new meaning. She looks to me not just for answers, but for guidance through her emotions, her thoughts, and her evolving sense of the world. Hearing her is about allowing her the space to express herself without imposing my own fears or expectations. It’s about creating an environment where she feels safe and valued, knowing that her thoughts matter, that her voice is important. I’ve found that validating her as she grows is my way of not only being her father but also being her ally in life.

Friends and romantic partners have presented their own challenges. In my past relationships, I’ve often found myself either shutting down or misinterpreting, letting misunderstandings brew into distance. What I’ve learned is that to truly connect with those I care for, I need to offer them more than just words; I need to offer presence, patience, and the willingness to acknowledge their emotional realities without diminishing them. It’s an ongoing process of learning to hold space for others while also being vulnerable enough to let them hold space for me.

Through all these roles, I’ve come to understand that listening, hearing, and validating are not just tools for better relationships; they are acts of love and generosity. When I strip away my ego and the defenses I’ve built over years of pain and trauma, I see that these practices are what allow me to bridge the gaps that have formed in my life, from my childhood through to the present. They are, ultimately, how I can transform the relationships that matter most to me, starting with myself.

—

There’s a secret to listening, a delicate art,
Where ears become wings and minds become hearts.
It’s not just the words that float through the air,
But the spaces between, the moments we share.

It’s catching the whispers that never take flight,
The thoughts in the corners, the ones out of sight.
Like fireflies dancing in soft twilight skies,
It’s hearing the things that aren’t said with your eyes.

A laugh that feels tired, a smile that’s unsure,
A pause that says “listen,” though nothing is pure.
It’s the music of presence, a soft-spoken tune,
That fills up the room like a warm afternoon.

To listen, my friend, is an act of sweet grace,
A gift without ribbons, no bow to replace.
For love isn’t grand when you shout from above;
It’s the quiet “I hear you” that whispers of love.

— Sincerely, Boris

Act One:

It takes a year to learn loss,
to feel the weight of each day without its rhythm,
what once was, is now only a shadow,
what was here, has slipped away.

It takes a year to understand the space
you still hold in my heart, in my mind.
What was once hollow, now aches with memory.
What was once vacant, is now filled with longing.

It takes a year to fall in love,
and a moment to take it for granted.
What was once ours, has drifted beyond reach.
What was once ours, belongs to the past.

It takes a year to regret the deepest mistake,
to lose everything; even yourself.
What was once within grasp, is now gone,
what once was life, is now distant.

It takes a year to mourn the loss,
to feel again what was missed and forgotten.
What once broke me, has now faded,
what once shattered, is now still.

It takes a year to feel the sting of absence,
to realize the love you held is no longer yours,
and in the stillness of that truth, we find peace,
carving space for new beginnings, for what’s to come.

Act Two:

One year ago today,
I spoke those words,
I never thought I’d say again;
‘I love you,’ and in that moment,
My world had forever changed.

— Sincerely, Boris

I miss the simplicity of slow dancing, swaying with someone under dim lights or even no lights at all, just the music of the moment guiding us. I long for the quiet exchange of handwritten notes, folded corners, and scrawled words that felt more intimate than texting ever could. There’s something irreplaceable about holding hands, feeling the pulse of another life interwoven with your own, a silent affirmation of connection.

I miss the affection; the casual, unspoken touches that say everything. The surprise of it all: an unexpected romantic gesture that brightened the day for no other reason than love. There’s an almost sacred joy in taking care of someone when they’re ill and not feeling themselves, the chance to nurture and be there in their vulnerability.

Cooking meals together, spending holidays together, planning a trip that revolves only around us, reading chapters to one another, carrying your things, buying flowers just because; these small rituals hold so much love in their simple execution. I miss sharing a stunning view with someone who feels the same way about the world, the silent communion that comes from recognizing beauty together.

Every love language matters in romance: the touch of a hand, the words that lift each other up, the thoughtful gifts, the unexpected surprises, the moments of service where we care without being asked, and the time spent simply being. They are all pieces of the puzzle that make romance whole, that make it feel alive and present in every interaction.

—

I miss the fold of your notes,
handwritten, curved,
as if the words themselves
were meant only for us to read.

I miss the simple joy of your hand in mine,
our fingers woven tightly,
a quiet language spoken
through skin and pulse.

I miss the sudden warmth of affection,
unprompted touches that bloom
unexpected, like the harvest in your garden.

The element of surprise,
the way love shows up
in places we never thought to look.

I miss the kitchen conversations,
meals made with laughter
and slow dancing over a simmering ***.

And buying flowers, just because
a day felt brighter with them in your hands.
I miss the view from that hilltop,
how we laid there, silently drinking in the world’s beauty
and found it mirrored in each other’s eyes.

I miss the romance,
the essence of what made us whole,
the moments we froze in time,
just long enough to call them ours.

— Sincerely, Boris

Sometimes, life comes down to the things left unsaid; the choices we once couldn’t make or the words we were too afraid to say. I’ve thought about this deeply, especially with the echoes of my last relationship, where love became something shared with my daughter too. Watching them together stirred something new in me, something that felt both tender and weighted, knowing how close we all were and the emotions that had layered over time.

In love and life, I’ve realized, timing is as much an enemy as it is a friend. There are relationships you hold in your heart long after they’re gone, because in some way, they’re stitched into who you are. Letting go, I learned, doesn’t mean forgetting. It means honoring what it gave you, allowing yourself to grow around the loss and the memories alike. And part of that growth, for me, has been opening up to my daughter, showing her the sides of love that endure; friendship, loyalty, and the courage to embrace life’s impermanence without resentment.

There’s a quiet strength in moving forward, I think, but it also means having the patience to live with what’s unresolved. Sometimes, the most meaningful connections leave us with loose ends. In those gaps between what we once shared and what remains, I try to find peace; not just for myself, but for the kind of man, father, and friend I want to be. And that, I’ve learned, might be the truest mark of love.

—

In the meadows of my daughter’s laughter,
she found a friend, a mentor, a guide;
a woman who spoke to the world as if every leaf and feather
carried a secret worth holding close.

I’d watch them both, fingers intertwined,
two souls bound in wonder,
eyes wide with the shared love of nature’s beauty.

They made gifts from paper and glue,
sketched treasures and braided wishes into chest full of memories,
as if they, together, could grow a world all their own.

She became more than love,
more than a hand to hold beside mine;
she was someone I’d have proudly called partner;
shoulder to shoulder, raising my daughter with honor.

But that world we dreamt, its warmth and wild simplicity,
is gone now, fading like the sunset that lit their sky.
I look at my daughter, and see traces of her curiosity,
the way they shared secrets I will miss greatly.

It is the saddest truth I carry;
to love what’s gone, and to walk forward in its dissolve.
Yet, for the bond they wove so carefully, so tenderly,
I am forever grateful, and forever grieving.

— Sincerely, Boris

In the recent months, I have been reflecting on letting go of someone I loved deeply and how it has been both a challenge and a gift. Though we didn’t share a long history, our connection felt like a rare, enduring bond that had felt like a lifetime of passion and care. In that brief time, I felt truly seen and accepted in a way that gave me hope, as if a new world had opened. Now, in releasing that dream, I’ve come to see that each relationship, whether brief or lasting; has shaped my understanding of how I wish to love and be loved.

Throughout my dating journey, I’ve met incredible people. Each connection has offered unique lessons, insights, and reflections of who I am and who I want to become. There’s a richness to those experiences, even when they don’t lead to lasting partnership. They remind me of the qualities I admire in others and in myself; the qualities that, with time, will align in a way that feels right. Rather than giving up on finding love, I see these relationships as part of a continuous journey that strengthens my vision of the life and love I want to create.

The more I’ve grown, the clearer I’ve become on the ways I want to give and receive love. I’m learning that love, at its best, feels like a balance of freedom and presence, moments of vulnerability and self-respect. As I move forward, I’m more intentional about what I want from a partner; qualities that foster a sense of mutual respect, shared values, and an unspoken understanding. My experiences have shown me that love thrives not when it’s forced or pursued out of fear but when it’s nurtured from a place of genuine connection and trust.

Letting go of a deep love has brought me closer to my purpose, reminded me of my strength, and deepened my faith in the journey.

Moving forward doesn’t mean leaving behind the beauty of what we shared; instead, I carry it with me, allowing it to fuel my hope for the future. I honor what was, release it with love, and step forward with renewed clarity. This journey is far from over; I remain open, curious, and hopeful, trusting that each new connection will bring me closer to a love that feels like home.

—

Heartbreak, a bitter medicine,
teaches me where I ache and why,
where I bend and where I break,
where I must learn to stand alone.

In each loss, a deeper knowing,
a softening to love’s open arms,
and the courage to seek,
again and again,
a love that feels like home.

— Sincerely, Boris

As a father, I have been entrusted with life’s most precious gift; a love without condition, the privilege to nurture and guide a soul as it blooms into something extraordinary. These fleeting moments are equal parts thrilling and terrifying, each one a gem, etched in the depths of memory like the most sacred of recordings. They capture growth, stumbles, triumphs, and milestones; each step shaping our daughters into resilient, independent women. Women who lift one another, unite in strength, and rebuild a world where they lead with grace and wisdom.

From the moment I first gazed upon my daughter, her eyes met mine with an unspoken question, a silent wonder. She asked a thousand things, yet I could only return the same gaze, full of awe. How astonishing she was; this new life, cradled in my arms, an extension of myself. For every question she had, a hundred more unfolded in my heart. Who will she become? What will her voice carry? How will our love manifest, as she grows?

As the years have passed, she answered each question, both in subtle, fleeting moments; laughter, tears, resilience, dance; and through our conversations, at the dinner table, on swing sets, on our long walks, and in the quiet calm of bedtime.

With each answer, new questions emerge, and so we trade curiosity, passing it back and forth like our own secret language. What kind of friend will she be? What passions will drive her? What books will she like to read? What will our bond mean to her as time moves forward?

She has never hesitated to ask the hard questions; about my failed marriage, my surgeries, my relationships, my fears. And in asking, she would often offer the answers herself. In doing so, she has shown me the depth of her growth, the person I have always wondered who she would become.

I will never cease to nurture and encourage her curiosity, nor will I ever stop embracing the questions she asks. And though I may never stop wondering; what will she do when I am no longer here? Who will be there to care for her? How will she remember me? I know this: her curiosity will lead her, as it has always led me.

Our mission is to foster their intellectual curiosity, teach them the weight of choices, and empower them to know their worth. We show them love firsthand, cultivate their growth, teach them the value of gratitude, and then; when the time comes; we set them free to soar.

–

Don’t clear every hurdle in their way,
or hover close above.
They’ll never find their own way,
if we mistake fear for love.

It’s not our place to smooth their path,
or “snowplow” and “helicopter” away each test.
But to stand beside them and watch them grow,
as they learn to do their very best.

We raise them not for ease, but good,
with hearts both kind and strong.
For in each challenge they will grow,
and learn where they belong.

Let’s guide our children, but let them lead,
and trust them as they make mistakes.
For they must pave a lane for themselves,
to be able to fix what they break.

— Sincerely, Boris

In the pursuit of lasting, secure relationships, I find myself reflecting on how anxiety has left its subtle, often unspoken imprints across my life. Growing up with a distant relationship with my parents, I internalized early on a sense of unfulfilled attachment, the absence of closeness planting seeds of doubt and a yearning for validation. In the silence of those unmet needs, I began searching for the assurances I never received, hoping that connection could anchor me to something steady.

This desire for security led me into a marriage that, for fourteen years, became a mirror of my deepest fears rather than a refuge. Each day felt like an exercise in survival; measuring my worth against another’s indifference, trying to reconcile my self-worth and patience with a relationship that drained rather than sustained. My anxieties flourished in that space; I was reaching for connection but grasping at emptiness. The experience taught me how profoundly loneliness can exist within a partnership and how silence can erode one’s sense of self over time.

Today, as a single father to my daughter, I am determined to write a different story, to create a life for her filled with the presence and closeness I once craved. I want to show her that love can be secure and kind, that her worth is intrinsic and unshakeable. I am learning, slowly, to offer myself the same assurance I give to her; a steady reminder that my value is not dependent on another’s approval or affection.

In this journey, I am coming to see that true security begins with me, with the quiet work of nurturing my resilience. Rather than allowing my fears to dictate my relationships, I am choosing to embrace them as part of my story, without letting them define its future. Each relationship now becomes an invitation to bring forward a more authentic, calm self. Through this process, I am becoming not only a more present father but a person capable of opening up without seeking guarantees. And in that vulnerability, I find a strength I never knew was mine.

—
​​In quiet moments, I can feel her near,
A light within the dark that holds me up,
Her laughter rising like the dawn’s first breath,
A fragile warmth that steadies broken ground.
Through storms endured, I draw upon her spark,
Her gentle hand pressed firm against my own,
The innocence she guards with steady grace,
Ignites a will to face the world once more.

I walk a road unkind and fierce at times,
Yet find my steps grow firm, my heart unbound,
For in her eyes I see a thousand suns;
Their heat is enough to melt the hardest of fears.

If ever strength were born from flesh and bone,
Then mine arose when she took in her breath;
My will to fight, to stand when all seems lost,
Lies nestled safe within her boundless trust.

— Sincerely, Boris

The experience of growing up always in the grip of fleeting desires has shaped how I approach relationships, even now as a single father in my forties. I’ve often found myself captivated by the allure of infatuation, swept away by the idealized image of another person. This pattern, though intoxicating, has taught me much about the nature of desire and the way it distorts reality.

I’ve come to see that these intense feelings; what I once thought was love; are often projections of my own unmet needs or desires onto another person. These crushes, which often felt overwhelming, were more about the fantasy I created than the reality of the person in front of me. I’ve learned that this yearning is less about genuine connection and more about the emotional highs I sought to escape from my own inner discomforts or unfulfilled longings.

With time, I’ve begun to understand the importance of self-awareness in these moments. What feels like love can sometimes be a fixation on an idealized version of someone, built from the fragments of my own hopes and unresolved emotions. True connection, I’ve realized, must be grounded in seeing the other person as they are, not as a reflection of what I want them to be.

In this journey, I’ve learned to let go of the compulsive need to chase after those fleeting feelings and instead nurture a deeper, more balanced emotional availability. It is about cultivating a sense of wholeness within myself, so that I no longer need another person to fill a void or complete me. This shift has been liberating, though it requires constant reflection and conscious effort. The path forward is not about denying desire but understanding its true source and embracing relationships that allow for growth, mutual respect, and authenticity.
—

Your name constant, lingering in my mind;
All the thoughts of you, I cannot escape;
They echo through time,
where a lonely silence once found its place.

In your eyes, I can I see beyond the universe;
its vastness reflected in their cosmic depths,
where time slows down, remains suspended,
revealing truths I hadn’t thought to seek.

And in your touch, oh, how it lingers;
a quiet fire that burns without need for flame.
It consumes all of me, drawing me closer to you,
where distance stretches, one galaxy to another;
Until I am lost in the warmth of your being.

You are the axis on which my thoughts turn,
the light that bends the edges of my soul.
Yet I know this;
to love you is not to possess,
but to admire the art in simply knowing
you exist, a masterpiece worth holding onto.

You are the one question I cannot answer,
a riddle unraveling in my mind, everyday.

— Sincerely, Boris

I’ve come to understand that healing from a breakup is not merely about moving on, but about transforming loss into an opportunity for self-growth. The hardest lesson was the necessity of letting go completely; closing every door to the past, not to escape, but to confront the emptiness it had left behind. In mourning the end of the relationship, I also had to mourn the version of myself I had lost along the way; and accepting that the future we had planned would never come to pass. This loss was not just of what was, but of what could have been. Yet, through time and the hard work of healing, I’ve found peace with this reality. Letting go of what was never meant to be has created space for new possibilities.

Setting new boundaries became essential. I learned that protecting my heart and mind required a lot of discipline, not as a defense, but as a way to reclaim my energy and direct it inward. In doing so, I realized that self-care isn’t indulgence; it is the deliberate act of rebuilding my sense of worth.

One of the most important lessons I learned was accountability. I had to take responsibility for my choices, both in the relationship and in my healing. While forgiving myself for past mistakes was essential, even more crucial was holding myself to a higher standard moving forward. I began to clearly distinguish between love and attachment, between desire and need. Through this process, my perception of my ex shifted significantly, leaving me to question much about our past. It has been liberating to finally break free from the heartbreak that once consumed me.

As I worked to rebuild my self-esteem, I reawakened parts of me that had been silenced, rediscovering who I was before and who I could potentially become. Heartbreak, rather than something to avoid, became a refining force, shaping me into a stronger and more resilient version of myself.

As I rebuild my life and shape the future I now desire, I remain optimistic. I trust that love will find me again, and I will never give up on that journey. The pain has been my teacher, guiding me toward a deeper understanding of love, and preparing me for what lies ahead.

—

From our end, I found my start,
Fixing the pieces of my broken heart.
Heartbreak taught me to look within,
To face the pain beneath my skin.

In the torment, I learned to see,
That love was never about you and me.
What once was broken is now whole,
In losing you, I’ve regained my soul.

No longer bound to what is gone,
I rise, renewed, and carry on.
The heart that ached has learned to mend;
In its healing, I find my strength once again.

— Sincerely, Boris

There was a time when I believed that intimacy was something instinctual, a force that either existed between two people or didn’t. But over time, I came to understand that intimacy is not simply a given; it is something that must be nurtured through honest and vulnerable conversations, each revealing the heart of what we need, fear, and desire.

I learned that the foundation of connection lies in acknowledging my deepest longings; those desires that go beyond physicality. It required me to unravel the layers of what I want, to express the complexities of attraction, and to embrace the discomfort of speaking my truth. Only by facing these unspoken needs could I truly invite another into the depth of my intimacy.

I also had to confront the tension between pleasure and discomfort. There’s an art in balancing these two forces, in recognizing that not every touch, every moment, will be perfect. It became clear to me that boundaries are essential, that knowing when to say ‘yes’ and when to say ‘no’ is as much a part of intimacy as the act of coming together. The body speaks in these moments, revealing both joy and hesitation, and I had to learn to listen.

Trust, I realized, is the heartbeat of connection. It is not enough to want intimacy; it must be built on a foundation where vulnerability can flourish. This is a trust that goes beyond words; it requires action, consistency, and the courage to be fully seen. In moments of doubt, I had to open myself further, revealing my flaws and insecurities, knowing that trust isn’t something to be passively given, but actively cultivated.

And then there’s the rhythm of how we communicate; the delicate balance of speaking and listening. I found that the most profound conversations are often those that leave space for silence, for reflection. Patience became my ally, as I learned that empathy in communication creates a shared experience, one that allows both of us to feel understood without the need for constant resolution.

But perhaps the most transformative realization was understanding that intimacy is not static. It evolves, just as we do. My body, my desires, and the way I seek connection have changed over time, and I’ve come to accept this as part of the journey. Rather than clinging to past versions of ourselves, I found a certain grace in adapting, in continually exploring new ways to nurture both trust and pleasure.

In the end, these realizations became more than lessons. They became a practice; an ongoing commitment to creating space for intimacy that is as rich emotionally as it is physically. It’s a space where love deepens, where empathy and passion intertwine, and where both partners are given the freedom to grow alongside each other.

—

It’s in the breath between words,
A place where we meet,
Beyond the edge of touch,
Where skin is not a barrier, but a bridge.

It’s in the slow unraveling of the heart,
Our truest selves,
Waiting to be seen,
waiting to be held.

Intimacy is the courage to stay,
Where bodies bend,
Not just for the warmth of another,
But for the release of what we carry alone.

The eyes that undress what words cannot,
The trust that grows
Not from promises spoken,
But from the weight of presence of being whole.

Where love is not just felt,
But understood
In the way we share our breath,
Our silence,
Our fears,
And our fire.

— Sincerely, Boris