Every time I see you, it’s the first time again;
like déjà vu rewritten in softer shades,
and I fall, surrendering as though I’d never known
the way you can both heal and haunt me.

I step into this circle, unbroken and sweet,
each glance a welcome wound, a familiar ache,
as if my heart has never learned
the shape of letting go.

I’ve tried to leave,
to walk ahead or fold back in,
but I’m tethered to the memory of you,
an orbit I can’t escape,
falling faster each time I rise.

I want to remember you less, but find myself
lingering in every echo of your name,
bound to relive each look, each touch;
this time loop of you, pulling me deeper,
until it’s all I know,
and all I want to leave behind.

— Sincerely Boris

Today, I close a door left open wide,
But never locked, in case one day, you seek
To return to the place we called our own,
A space once shared, now distant yet near.

On my side, memories linger, healing
From the bond we nurtured, fragile yet full;
But missing still, a knock from the other side,
A sign that you remember too.

On your side, your hand lingers on the handle,
Hesitant, unsure if the past is worth revisiting,
Afraid it may remind you of a love once tender,
That slipped through our fingers like sand.

Our hands meet; two souls on opposite sides,
Turning the **** together,
Opening the door once more.
What begins as a polite greeting
Melds into an embrace,
A hug that stretches time,
Filling the air with memories.

We are carried back,
To a time when we stood on the same side of the door,
Happy, united, alive in our shared warmth.
We leave it unlocked,
For whatever future may come.

A door is just a door;
And though we close it now,
It will never be locked,
For the love and friendship we once knew,
Still lingers, waiting, on both sides.

— Sincerely, Boris

You are one of my closest friends
We share an unbreakable bond
A beautiful soul, you are
For almost everyone, deeply do you care
Selfless, humble and unassuming
Warm, friendly and caring
Really, are you a dream friend
In you, is there nothing to amend!

You are one of my closest friends
By nature, are you too kind
Due to which, often do you suffer
I hope and pray, will things soon get better
Especially considering your faith in the Lord is unwavering
Without you, is your family nearly nothing!!

You are one of my closest friends
Someone whom I will fiercely defend
At the drop of a hat
Your loyalty is impossible to defeat
Always, have you advised me well
As a friend, truly are you vera level!!

You are one of my closest friends
Your family cares for me to no end
And my family is also your family
Forever, do I want you to be happy
Totally, do I enjoy our long calls
They keep me from feeling dull
Definitely, are you a godsend
And may our relationship never end
See you soon bro and take care
And may the Lord bless you with everything you desire!!

We grew up in the same small town,
summers brushing by like strangers.
One day, you came by during band practice,
and wrote down titles of my CD collection,
and I smiled.

Years later, we crossed paths in Toronto,
you, studying to heal others,
We never named what we were;
sleepovers, meals shared,
your love for my cat, our weekends together.

I think of you sometimes,
your voice from Europe, the music in bed,
your quirky and dorky self, so unguarded.
And though we’ve drifted,

I know you’re well;
still carrying that quiet grace,
living the life you deserve.

— Sincerely, Boris

I recently met a woman who captivates my curiosity in ways which are both subtle and sincere. She possesses an enchanting smile, one that invites contemplation, and her intellect is a reservoir of knowledge.

Our time together began in simplicity, which brought with it the slow transition from casual exchanges to more intimate encounters and a beautiful friendship rooted in vulnerability and openness. It was just the two of us, seated beside one another at her wooden dining table; an otherwise unremarkable place transformed into the locus of a quiet, passionate moment. There, amidst the remnants of earlier conversations and the subtle hush of the night, we began to truly reveal ourselves, not merely through the words exchanged but through the silences that punctuated them. Our questions, though innocuous at first, grew longer in their responses, drawing us closer, as though the very chairs we occupied were conspiring to bring our bodies nearer. And in time, they did. The space between us vanished, until we found ourselves no longer seated apart but sharing an almost singular presence.

In that instant, as if time itself paused in reverence, our lips met. The kiss was neither hurried nor fleeting, but rather the kind that stretches across the span of hours. Our hands explored, tracing paths not unlike the threads of our earlier conversations; each touch unveiling a new dimension of understanding, as if we were learning each other in a language foreign yet familiar. It was as if our bodies communicated where words could not, translating the intrigue of thought into something palpable and electric.

–

As we sit under the autumn sun,
Our knees brush the earth,
Your eyes trace soft paths between us.

Our children play in the distance;
Their laughter singing a song we both know well.

Between bites of a shared sandwich,
We exchange stories,
Untangling the past and present,
Until we begin to speak of dreams
We had both long forgotten.

In the stillness between breaths,
My hand finds your leg,
And before our children return;
You steal a kiss, quick as a secret.
I smile, and steal it back.

When our children return to the picnic,
Their hands full of discoveries,
We sit, caught in the moment’s pause;
No longer stealing kisses,
But sharing them softly,
As if they belong only to us.

— 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

Love, in all its varied forms, has shaped me. It is through love that I have discovered the complexities of friendship, the exhilaration and heartache of romance, and the beauty of self-discovery. The years have taught me that love is not confined to the romantic ideals we often hold in our youth, but rather, it permeates every facet of life; friendship, family, and, perhaps most importantly, the love we cultivate within ourselves.

Through friendships, I learned the art of companionship, the silent language of loyalty, and the sharp pain of betrayal. Friends are the scaffolding upon which the architecture of my life has been built, and though time may weather those bonds, I understand now that each connection serves its purpose; either to uplift or to teach.

Romantic love, for all its allure, often presents itself as a mirror reflecting back our deepest insecurities and desires. It is within the pursuit of love that I have faltered, my heart at times shattered by misplaced trust or unfulfilled promises. Yet, I have come to see that the true tragedy of love is not its ending, but the missed opportunities to grow alongside someone who enriches you, rather than diminishes you.

In the midst of seeking external validation, I realized that the most profound relationship is the one I have with myself. Self-love, often overlooked, is the foundation upon which all other forms of love must be built. It is in moments of solitude that I have found clarity, understanding that I must first learn to stand alone before I can truly stand with others.

Life’s most valuable lessons are delivered not in grand epiphanies, but in the quiet moments; through friendships that evolve, through relationships that end, and through the resilience we muster in solitude. What remains is the awareness that love, in its many forms, is less about perfect outcomes and more about the journey; the vulnerability, the joy, and the inevitable pain that accompanies it.

Each encounter, whether fleeting or enduring, has etched itself into the fabric of who I am. And from this, I have learned that love, above all else, is a choice; one we must make with grace, courage, and, perhaps most of all, with a deep sense of compassion for ourselves.

—

Before I stand with you,
I must stand with myself;
In quiet corners of solitude,
Where no hand holds mine,
And no voice echoes back my worth.

I must be whole,
Not seeking refuge in another’s eyes,
But rooted in the soil of my own soul,
Blooming from the love I give within.

Only then,
With steady hands and open heart,
Can I walk beside you,
Not as half seeking whole,
But as one who knows how to love;
By first loving me.

— Sincerely, Boris