If I must sink
Let it be
I don’t care
About decency

If I can’t have you
No one shall
I have no confidence
And no morale

My heart is cracking
My head aches
Don’t care about consequences
**** the stakes

If I must sink
Let it be
I’ve long accepted
There’s no saving me

Won’t live without you
Won’t carry on
By the time you read this
I’ll be long gone

Not by death
But I’ll lose my mind
You know what they say
Love makes you blind

It's a funny thing distance.
We put it between ourselves and dangerous situations.
But what about when we put it between people we love?
Its unfortunate and it hurts.
well why though? were they dangerous to us, and our sense of self or we were dangerous to them.
It's never a easy answer.
But people put distance between themselves and their dead relatives, isn't it the same thing. That's distance to right?
Yes, but for us they're very much alive and we can close that distance if we wanted to.
Then why don't we?! END OUR SUFFERING!
we long for them... and all her wonders.
Were it so easy, we would not be here in this winter, feeling just how cold it can get, wanting to close this distance.
I dont care! I'm tierd of feeling this pain go straight through us down to our very bones.
What do you want us to do? Just reach out and say "Hi I'm back"
Do you know how tramatic that is! Do you know how much we've changed because of this distance, they wouldn't even recognize us we are akin to a new person!
No, we will endure this heart breaking, gut wrenching distance.
This distance is horrible.
Just think about the ones that can't endure it.
are they weak. Are we stronger then them? Why couldn't they endure the distance?
No, they're not weak, they're just lost, an have yet to find themselves.
Do you think they're at peace with the distance between us?
Maybe... I don't know. I hope so.

Stupid foolish girl
Your begging and your pleas
Will not set you free

You texted him again
No respect for your dignity
Your breaking inside
Can you not see?

Stupid, foolish girl
Can’t take abandonment well
Will you ever change
Only time will tell

You’re only hurting yourself
Hang up your hat
Take a rest
He chose to leave himself

Stupid, foolish girl,
but still, you fight to be free.
Perhaps not today, but someday you'll see—
you are stronger than your grief.

There’s a nasty stain on the carpet
A yard from the door,
Dark orange of a shade
I once used to adore.

I’ve bleached and soaked the relentless spot
Till my hands and knees bit,
I’ve covered it with rugs,
But my mind still wont remit.

Curse the careless way I ate that fruit!
I cry into the smudge.
Each time I walk inside,
This brand relights my grudge.

Maybe over time I’ll learn to note it less,
A spark more than a fire.
Till then I guess I stare,
At this mandarin expired.

I stared at the pond for hours
Dipping my index and letting it drip

A rustle here, a rumour there,
Wouldnt stir my pouted lip.

In the green I didn’t note you.
No bark or howl did you insist.

I had defied your mild chirping,
Untill I saw you wearing mist.

Green frog, looking upwards.
Slight, but surely there.

Please stay here, pondside with me,
In this sigh im glad to share.

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

Can I die from a broken heart?
If I smile through the agony
Will it tear me apart?
Or will I somehow be ok?

If I drag myself out of bed
Clear the poisonous thoughts
Out of my fragile head
Will I somehow be ok?

Can I die from a broken heart?
Should I lay here and never leave
Or rise and focus on a fresh start
Tell me which do I choose?

When all is said and done
And I chose the latter of the two
Would that mean that he has succeeded?
In truly breaking me

Harsh Cold Winter

It’s a harsh cold winter
You’re gone and I’m so bitter
I sat front-row seat
As I watched our love wither

Heart gouged by the splinters
You’ve silenced your ringer
And my feelings for you
Oh, they still linger…

It’s a harsh cold winter
Choked sobs and silent whimpers
Sparks of love burned out
Leaving ashes and cinder

Sleepless nights
Bottles of whiskey
Skipped meals
My love, do you miss me?

It’s a harsh cold winter
I’ve always been an overthinker
Should I move on? Or reach out?
letting my healing progress hinder

Week old sheets that smell of you
Tears as wide as the ocean
People come and go
But all I ever wanted was your devotion

Loneliness lamented,
never exempt from
tremendous emptiness,
relentless against
hellbent descent
of my own invention;
entrenched in
mental torment
taking up every tenement residence,
detention condemns.

But
mid November
summer still incenses,
in sun scented
memories
tempted by your
gentlest remnants
still renders me
senseless.

Daydreamt,
ephemeral,
almost replenishes and mends
until
heart hemorrhaging
becomes a
drenching tempest,
like a fist clenching
tension
holding onto your
absence
and some semblance of
what you meant
and yet
goodbye
you went
again.

Seeds scattered
gather the courage
to germinate, emerge
as fertile, verdant trees
of evergreen and birch,
breeze's tease and flirt
enough to render
Earth fractured–
shattered.

Underneath the dirt
remorse's corpse interred,
lurking thoughts linger,
yet something within me
still stirs and burns;
searching the surface
for touch, tender.

Heart murmurs
but not as
a murmuration of starlings depart,
more like crows murdered;
buzzards, vultures circling birds
conjured–
the curse unburied torture,
no dying word in final dirge
and yet it yearns
for yesterday's return.

Memories mind blurs,
my senses
fervently usurped
but time can never
be reversed,
this cistern's nature
gushing to a turbulent river–
water's surging,
turgid current, pure;
about to die of thirst,
this dam soon fills to burst,
my love i spill and purge
as i remember her.

I was a version
of an imperfect person,
a scourge
of that I stand assured,
but this pain is
terminal,
permanent,
the only cure
her laugher
or feeling
fragile fingers,
shelter–
you certainly weren't the first
heartbreak I've had
but **** it hurts the worst.