I am going to be stronger and wiser to myself this time.
You weren't there in my hardest time,
And you left me at a time when I too needed somebody the most,
I guess that somebody just wasn't you.
So hear me out while I scream it to your face
while you call me selfish and inhuman,
You weren't there when I needed you the most.
Now I am not obliged to get back to square one
and loose myself again in the process to be good to you,
because I am. too busy being good to myself

Basil and thyme speckled rye
dipped in warm tomato soup.
Nestled under a white cotton quilt
clinging to a small blue bowl.

The frosty air tastes like water.
Your hand is warm.
Our cheeks are bright red.
Your laughter's a storm.

Dear friend,
I have been swimming in denial for a long time, and when I finally hit the shore, reality crashed in.
I have processed that I live in a stranger’s body, a stranger’s mind.
I have not lost some parts, but too many that I cannot connect the remaining ones together.
Who am I?
I have no idea. No clue.
I was someone two weeks ago, someone I can easily describe to you. However, today, I’m nothing. How can I describe a nothing?
Empty, lonely? Maybe. But not sad, no.
I don’t know, I cannot understand me enough to describe her, to describe who she has become, or still yet to become.
Whenever I think about who I am becoming, I end up with different cliffhangers.
I’m not a complete story, not just yet. It’s not my time to learn about who I will be.
For now, I’ll continue swimming in denial, hoping when I hit the shore again, I’ll hit the right one, and then I’ll understand my reality a lot more.

Stone columns lined the nave,
graced by a stained warmth.
Yet, as I stood in the crossing
the silence was coarse.

Emeralds and white linen
fasten to your stare.
Like rusting leaves to the coastal breath,
like your words to air.

Dear ex,
Goodbyes. I have never experienced them on a high level, not when my aunt passed away this year, not when friends ghosted me, not when I lost so many parts of me.
I never truly knew what Goodbyes felt like, until I said my first and last one to you.
At first, I didn’t feel anything. In fact, I have not cried about it, yet. I don’t know if I will or not. I don’t know if I’m holding myself back or not. I do know, though, that I’m not in denial.
I have accepted my decision. I have accepted that I have to learn to keep your presence as a memory, and absence as a reality. The thought of you still brings me pain, and that’s a confirmation that I’m not over you just yet. I have accepted that I have to live with the thought of always wondering if that was the right thing or not, if I have truly hurt you or you were just trying to guilt me. I’ll have to live with too many questions, too many cliffhangers. However, it’s fine by me. I won’t dwell myself in the past, I won’t dwell myself in you.
I’m slowly learning who I am without you. I’m slowly opening myself, allowing myself to not be held back. I’m slowly growing a new skin that you have not touched. I’m slowly losing the parts you gave me. I’m slowly becoming who I truly am when I am not sad. I’m slowly flourishing. I’m slowly growing. I’m slowly healing, far from you, without you.
With all the love you’ll never have,
Raghad

So this is it then? The dreams realized? The thoughts fulfilled?

What happened? The lust has shrunk and shrunk. The emotion is gone.

Tired all the time.
Depressed.

Is this you? Please tell me it's not.