People count the years
by candles and quiet tears.
The twenties, they say,
are when we wait
for the first cry
from a miracle
just learning to breathe.

But some of us, like me,
never quite grow up.
Peter Pan weeps
each time the rain brushes my shoulders.
I come alive again
only in fleeting moments,
like the string that’s slipped
from a flying kite.

Just days ago,
that child stirred again —
flickering like a candle,
reaching toward her teacher,
a man with nothing
but quiet grace,
yet rich in the kind of ways
that make you believe in yourself.

She longed to share
a small bright win,
a spark like a candle’s tip —
just enough to set a heart aglow
beneath the gaze
that once gave her
presence
when the world turned away.

For the first time,
I wanted to tell
someone —
so fully —
like a child
unafraid to confess,
trusting there’d be
an empty seat,
and eyes that wait.

I once thought,
on the day I might break,
as wax melts
over a birthday cake —
would God have mercy
and let me return
as my teacher’s daughter?

But now I know —
even the most beautiful dream
can turn to dust
if we forget to hold the present
while it’s still here.
Even something lovelier
can still feel
like a passing crush —
picked up with wonder,
and dropped
when wonder fades.

Didn't you know?
Didn't they tell you?

You should have known.
At least you ought to.

It's Psychology 101.
A classic class.

In how to charm.
Then disarm the victim.

Didn't you know?
Weren't you paying attention?

You were too caught.
In his gaze.
The way he said your name.

He played the prey.
Perfectly waiting.

Biding his time.
As his jaw gnawed,
At his cheek.

In the back of the class.
He watched you.
Following your footsteps.

Waiting to feast.
It was psychology 101.

But I guess you must,
have fallen asleep.

If there isn't any hope,
for you?

Then what hope is there for us?
Next time I hope you'll be paying attention.

Instead of falling asleep.
In my lesson.

Everyone lives in a gutter
I just wanna make
The gutter happier.
That’s my moral compass
Something my teacher
Once told, I remember.

I once lived
Like a sewer rat
Soaked in filth and mud,
Thinking life
Must be the same
For every other rat.

But he showed me
A rat in the rain,
Busy dancing
It meant a lot,
Something.

It’s not about the water,
Nor the grime in the drain;
It’s how you find joy
In pleasure or pain.

I don't know why I cried,                                                           ­                       
                                                                ­                                                  
when you walked away,                                                            ­                          
                                                                ­                                                        
I felt like we had died,                                                            ­                            
                                    ­                                                                 ­               
long before that dark day                                                              ­                    
                                            ­                                                                 ­         
    I think I was still holding                                                          ­                                                                 ­                                                                 ­                        
on to a sweet memory                                                           ­                           
                                                                ­                                                        
as I felt my heart folding,                                                         ­                             
                                   ­                                                                 ­                     closing in around me                                                               ­                       
                                         ­                                                                 ­            
It had really hit me,                                                              ­                      
                                                                ­                                                 
that our love was gone                                                             ­                     
                                           ­                                                                 ­      
and I would then be                                                               ­                           
                                     ­                                                                 ­      
forever lonely & alone                                                            ­                      
                                          ­                                                                 ­       
My heart was aching                                                           ­                               
                                 ­                                                                 ­                
and no one really cared,                                                           ­                                     
                                                                ­                                              
inside I was shaking,                                                         ­                                  
                              ­                                                                 ­             
broken & scared                                                           ­                                   
                                                                ­                                                  
We both knew it was coming                                                           ­             
                                                   ­                                                                 ­
but let it happen anyway,                                                          ­                
                                                ­                                                                
both hell- bent on burning                                                          ­                                                                 ­                                                                 ­                                     
the one we loved in every way                                                              ­                     
                                           ­                                                                 ­          
a lesson worth learning                                                         ­                               
                                 ­                                                                 ­              
look at what we've done today

Maybe I wasn’t made to be loved, at least not in the soft, quiet way that sunlight slips through a window, warming the air as it gently stirs the morning awake. Maybe I’m the kind that comes alive in the dead of night, like a storm crashing against the sea, fierce, unrelenting, too wild to stay. I’ve tried folding myself into arms not shaped to hold me, twisting like origami into spaces that never fit. I’ve written lullabies hoping to soothe, only to be met with silence, like they were never heard at all. It’s not that I don’t feel love, I feel it deeply. But I give until I overflow, until the pressure builds and the dam breaks, leaving ruins where something beautiful used to be. Maybe I wasn’t meant to be someone’s peace. Maybe I was meant to be the ache they carry in their chest, the lesson, the turning point, the reminder of what they didn’t realize they had until it was too late.

oh to be the wept living eternally through the weeper.

The rays of her sun shined and projected into him.
A shame he was blinded by the glistening of her glass skin,
her soul far too easily outshined.

Ask me about beauty.
I’ll say it’s the battle of the opposites,
so tragically blind that they are one; forever entwined in redamancy.