Oh, to give a dam—much like a lake, its waters
held back, silence breaking my spine. All of my
worries are so high; walled off like Kariba—
****; the young grow old faster than you
can say the word— telling jokes, but even
a straight path smiles with crooked teeth.

Hope laughs at itself, when it forgets to believe.
And what’s one more injury in a whole lifetime,
lest you hang yourself with the very lifeline
you cling to.

0808 4116 is the helpline; but on an island
of despairs, what becomes of a landline—
when your thoughts are rigged like landmines,
waiting for the wrong step to set them off.

Watch your step. Hope lives in an arena, fighting
to be heard through the noise. And anything worth
holding onto is something worth bleeding for—
But it will demand you take your licks, like a kitten
burning through lives, losing a few before it learns
what survival really is.

So don’t litter your worth on the ground.
Guard it. Nurture it. As a mother cat does
her litter— fragile, trembling, but alive.

In chaos, I found peace in you  
A love so deep, so pure, so true  

Your smile, like dawn, begins my day  
It melts my fears and lights the way  

When shadows stretch across my mind  
Your gentle words are sweet and kind  

You lift me up when I feel low  
Your love, a steady, healing glow  

You teach me how to love my name  
To stand in light, not hide in shame  

With every touch, you mend my scars  
You guide me home beneath the stars  

We dance through storms, we laugh through rain  
With you, I feel no fear or pain  

Our bond, a flame that will not die  
It shines beneath the endless sky  

Forevermore, through time and tide  
I'll walk with you, right by your side

Sometimes,
when I finish a poem,
when I’ve polished it,
I see a white light
surrounding it—
not because it’s perfect,
not because it deserves an award,
but because it is mine.

I cry
reading my own words.
Sometimes I feel
it isn’t me writing at all,
but someone else takes the wheel,
gathers my emotions,
seals them in a shell,
lets them ripen,
until a precious pearl
emerges before me.

And that is why I cry.
Because this pearl
is too beautiful,
and it was born
from my own heart.

Life feels heavy —
as if I lack the strength to carry on.
Loneliness demands it so;
I've grown used to fleeing from what's real.

I watch others live their love-filled lives —
but it's never enough.
My body aches for it,
and so does my soul — to love, to be loved.

Yet still, a spark glows deep within,
flowers bloom in my heart,
whispering softly:
Spring is near.

And the scent of those blossoms —
it reminds me of you.
I think we fit, like verses in rhyme —
have you ever felt it too,
when you looked at us from the outside?

I saw you first from afar —
one glance, and my heart was already racing.
I fell for your eyes right then and there,
on M.M. Street, number twenty-seven.

I took a photo of that moment,
the place where we first met —
it still lives in my gallery.
And maybe, one day,
if I write a song,
I’ll make it the art cover — meaningful and true.

Since you,
everything around me has blossomed —
flowers in my chest,
butterflies in my stomach,
seeds of something new scattered everywhere.

If Spinoza had seen you,
he wouldn’t say “God is in all,”
but rather, “God is only in you.”

I want you to want me,
the way I want you —
with all the love I've yet to give.

Sadness speaks in lullabies
No one wants to hear
In tears that fall
Without permission
In the ache that says
"You are not okay"
Bt you will be,someday.

The most misunderstood, misfelt, and underrated feeling.
Water flowing from eyes can never be fake.
It could be from happiness,
Can be with grief,
Can be out of jealous,
And can be through overwhelm.

The reason may be anything,
But they can never be fake.
They hold valuable expressions
Which words in dictionary too fail.

They carry the pain,
Unexpressed emotions,
And more.

Tears are misunderstood
For being weak, sensitive, and over-emotional.
But they are not in true sense.
One can never judge the value of tears.

They make heavy hearts lighter.
Hidden suffers heal.
They make expressions visible.
Make the situation intact.

Never look low of tears,
And the one who lets them flow freely,
Than to submerged them fearing judgements.

It went quiet
Not because it gave up
Bt because it was saving me.

It felt too much
So it chose silence
Over shuttering.

It held the storm
Behind closed doors
So I could keep breathing.

It's not numb
Just protecting
What's still healing

Dust off my feelings — I could say
     I’m a little rusty when it comes to love,
so please… forgive me.
With all these needs and wants, I don’t want
to seem so needy — believe me! Sometimes I feel
like the memory of other people, a name echoed
in stories but never fully seen. I guess the fantasy
of connection never really ends. I loan myself
abundant confidence — but only in my heart,
and even then, only vaguely. Behind the irises,
tired eyes rest on the soft outlines of what
the mind believes it can finally see. To participate
in finding oneself… it’s a gruesome search party.

My floodlights are filled with a bit of drought —
shining outward, but lacking what flows within.
I’m strolling where I never had the courage to step,
everywhere I turn feels like a new pressure.
I give out my heart, but don’t have much of a chest
to hold it — barely a ribcage to defend it.
Yet still — there’s treasure in this tenderness,
a worthwhile chest of purpose hidden in the pretending…
of escaping real life. But here I am, in real time —
taking the first step.