He holds my gaze with trembling hands,
A man torn by tides, shifting sands.
He says he wants me—but I know the ache,
The ghost of her still in his wake.

Her name lingers like smoke in the air,
And now his ex—her shadow is there.
Whispered confessions, a flicker of doubt,
A heart that wanders, a love stretched out.

Yet I do not judge; how could I dare?
I see the storm he’s learned to wear.
A mind that battles, a heart that’s bruised,
A tangle of love and paths confused.

I see my soul reflected in his eyes,
A twin flame’s fire, where truth and shadow lie.
I know his hunger, the ache to feel whole,
The battles within, the wars of the soul.
I understand the need, the longing for love,
The self-sabotage, the push, the shove.
For his self-doubt mirrors my own scars—
Two hearts aligned, yet torn apart by stars.

I’m hopeful for us, yet I’ll tread with care;
His patterns linger, my heart’s aware.
Yet I won’t worry, I won’t let the anxious thoughts win.
I’ll trust the journey, let the healing begin.
For love is a path both fragile and strong,
And what’s truly meant for us won’t steer us wrong.

Yet I can’t help it; my chest now tightens as I dream of us:
Will his promises hold, or crumble like dust?
Will I be the anchor, or just another shore?
Will he seek solace where he’s been before?

Still, I’ll stay and never judge, for I know his pain—
The weight of loss, the ache of shame.
I understand the wounds, the scars unspoken,
Our fragile hearts, so easily broken.

I’ll let time flow, let it all unfold,
For fate has a way of taking hold.
What’s meant to be will find its way,
Through light or shadow, come what may.

For if he can choose me, leave the past behind,
I know we’ll find peace in love redefined.
But I’ll still tread lightly, for love is a thread,
And trust is a bridge I’ll build with my dread.

I won’t reach out again—not now, not soon,
Though my heart still whispers to the silent moon.
Your voice still lingers in the corners of my mind,
But I’ve learned that love can’t outrun the unkind.

You said goodbye—so softly, yet so clear,
A dagger wrapped in words I still half-fear.
And though I’d trade the stars for one more day,
I’ll not beg a soul who chose to walk away.

Twice, you will not tell me I’m not your choice;
I won’t silence my worth to quiet your voice.
I’ll assume you’re happy; she holds your hand,
While I hold my silence, as was your command.

I miss you so much; how I wish you could see,
But I’ll carry this ache with quiet dignity.
You’ll hear no message, no pleading refrain;
The echo of absence will call out your name.

If you wish to speak, you’ll know where to find
The woman who once gave her heart and her mind.
But until you seek me, this truth will remain:
I’ll never again walk toward love through the rain.

Though you chose her, you said it was ease—
A history shared, and distance that pleased.
You spoke of your love, how real it had been,
But love that’s weighed against ‘easy’ can’t win.

I’m not a fallback, a regret to erase,
A comfort you seek when you’ve lost your place.
I’m not the safe harbor you turn to in shame,
When the love you chose no longer feels the same.

I won’t be a shadow, a thought in the haze,
A memory you chase on your loneliest days.
I understand mistakes—we all lose our way,
And maybe you’ll see it more clearly one day.

But know this: I will never be second to none;
A choice made for comfort is a love that’s undone.
If you realize the weight of what you let go,
I’ll forgive the mistake, but still, you should know:

I may understand, but I’ll never comply;
I’m no one’s ‘what if,’ no matter the why.

He chose her, not me—
the story ends where I am erased.
A triangle now a straight line,
and I’m left wandering the empty angles
of what we once were.

He deleted it all,
every thread, every laugh, every word.
The silence isn’t just loud;
it’s a void.
Now there’s no proof he actually existed,
Without proof, it’s as if I’ve been mourning a mirage,
a shadow of love that never cast light.

I saw this coming all along,
like storm clouds gathering on the horizon.
But hope is a stubborn liar;
It breathed life into dreams I should’ve buried.
And now the sting cuts twice as deep—
first for his choice,
and second for believing he might choose me.

It was foolish of me to think,
when he said, “I’ve been writing something for you,”
that it could be anything but a goodbye.
Still, my heart dared to hope—
that maybe it was love,
a promise, a beginning.
But no, it was an ending
wrapped in words that shattered me.

But what aches deeper
than his absence
is this war within.
My brain, ever the protector,
whispers: forget him, let go.
But I won’t let it win,
no matter how much it begs to shield me.
I know it’s trying to save me
from a pain too sharp to bear,
but I need to survive this
without losing the pieces of him.

Because I don’t want to forget,
not the love I have for him,
not the way he smiled,
not the way his voice felt like home.
Every detail, every fragment—
I’ll carry them all,
even if it breaks me.
The pain keeps him real,
and to lose him completely
would be worse than the ache of loving him alone.

Rereading the scraps,
the echoes of us,
I cling to them like artifacts
of a fleeting world.
They tether me to a past
that my mind tries to bury,
but my heart refuses to lose.

It’s a cruel mechanism,
this erasure of survival,
and I can’t let it win.
I want this pain to stay,
to pulse, to burn,
to be the proof that he existed
and I wasn’t just dreaming
the loss of him.

He stands at the crossroads, torn in two,
Between me and time, what is he to do?
I, the spark, the chaos, the flame,
Time, the steady—unwavering, tame.

They were friends first, their bond was light,
Born of comfort, not love’s true might.
She gives him safety, a familiar embrace,
But love isn’t comfort; it’s a deeper space.

I dance in colors, bold and wild,
Time whispers softly, serene and mild.
She moves in circles, unbroken, clear,
I leap through shadows, chasing the near.

Yet I stand faithful, steady, and true,
My love is constant, my promises few.
While she plays games, fleeting and free,
Chasing thrills without loyalty.

She’ll claim she feels, she’ll whisper “it’s real,”
But her actions betray what her words conceal.
For love isn’t fleeting, it’s steady and whole,
Yet she’d share him freely, with no care for his soul.

I see her using his heart as a tool,
Playing him softly, making him a fool.
For her, it’s a game, a fleeting affair,
But for him, there’s more, though she doesn’t care.

She loves the chase, the lust, the dare,
Invites a third without a care.
Her heart’s a wanderer, unanchored, loose,
While mine is tethered with no excuse.

When I hear they’re together, my heart starts to break,
A pain so deep, it’s more than I can take.
Yet she stands there, willing to share,
As if his love is a game, not something rare.

If we’re opposites, stark as night and day,
How can his heart beat in both our sway?
Does he love her stillness, her endless grace,
Or the thrill of my ever-changing pace?

I hold his secrets, his dreams, his fears,
I would stand beside him through trial and tears.
Yet her fickle heart, unbound by shame,
Would most likely cheat and tarnish his name.

Perhaps he is both—the wild and the calm,
Drawn to our worlds like a hymn and a psalm.
Yet, in this triangle, I can’t help but see,
What he loves most may not be her or me.

We could have had a world with tender hands,
A place where love and trust could stand.
Your laughter lived inside my chest,
Your voice—the song that I loved best.

But tides have turned, and we must part,
Unravel bonds that tied the heart.
To strangers now, we must return,
Though every fiber aches and burns.

Your shadow lingers in my days,
A haunting glow, a quiet blaze.
Yet strangers again we must learn to be,
Though love still whispers endlessly.

Your name—a ghost upon my tongue,
A song unsung, forever young.

The pieces of you, etched in my soul,
Remain, though I must let you go.
A cruel design—to love, then sever,
To fade to strangers, but remember forever.

Will echoes call you in the night,
To places bathed in softer light?
Where love was found, where hearts were bare,
Will you still feel me lingering there?

For love, it doesn’t simply die;
It folds itself—a breath, a sigh—
And hides in corners of the mind,
A treasure lost, but still confined.

I hoped we’d never walk this lane,
To sever ties and bear this pain.
For soulmates shouldn’t face this end,
A love so rare should never bend.
But you have chosen another path,
And left me broken in your aftermath.

I hope she gives you all you need,
A love that sets your spirit free.
But selfishly, I still believe,
It’s me who holds the key to “we.”

No matter how hard I try, I can’t let go
I wish it were me you’d choose to know.
I want your joy, I want your peace,
Yet I ache to be the one who brings you ease.

So though we’ll walk as strangers now,
And wear this fate we disavow,
Know this: no time, no fate, no fear
Can make the love I have for you disappear.

Tragically, the path we were on has reached its end,
And now will leave us strangers once again.

She was ******  
Shattered and frayed, her guilt thrummed like a live wire,  
just feeling it all—  
the agony and the nothingness,  
intertwined like roots of a twisted tree,  
growing in soil laced with despair.  
  
He was ******,  
caught in the riptide of love,  
clinging to the driftwood of someone else’s anguish,  
his sin?  
This desperate reach,  
a lifeline that twisted like vines  
suffocating the very breath of his own heart.  
  
She was ******—  
a jigsaw of herself,  
pieces ripped from her skin,  
reassembled to fit the gaps of others,  
her hope—  
to stand in the light  
and finally feel her own shadow.  
  
She was dangerous,  
her fragments sharp,  
like glass scattered on a forgotten floor,  
and every hand that reached out  
bore the chance  
of slicing through her skin and the tether  
to her still-beating heart.  
  
He was dangerous—  
each sinkhole of sadness,  
his love,  
an ocean that swallowed the buoyancy of laughter,  
his heart bled onto them,  
the crimson tide drenching those  
who dared to tread too close.  
  
She was dangerous,  
those myriad pieces,  
each a path to the divine or  
the infernal, a kaleidoscope  
of God’s dreams and the devil’s whispers,  
and in her longing to be whole,  
the lines blurred—  
the beauty and the brutality, intertwined.

I’ll take a step back, I’ll say goodbye.
I’ll put on a smile, even though all I want to do is cry.

I want you to be happy, no matter what that means.
I prioritize your happiness and well-being over my own, it seems.

But that’s what love is: being selflessly devoted.
I’ll gladly continue to sink as long as you’re the one who has floated.

After everything you’ve endured, you don’t need any more stress.
So, I can walk away—I just need to get this off my chest.

You are the most incredible person I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting.
That’s why I don’t give a **** that my heart is the one taking the beating.

If she is the one, your person, your soulmate,
Why was she in your life for so long before she realized? In my opinion, she’s too late.

Yeah, maybe that’s selfish thinking, to bring up our instantaneous connection.
But you’ve known her for how long, and she’s just now mentioning how she’s always craved your attention?

Maybe I’m bold, maybe I’m just insane.
But from day one of meeting you, there’s no way I could have kept that a secret; you truly consume my entire brain.

If I were her, I would’ve blurted out that I loved you from the moment we met.
So why, after all this time, does she want you to know? It’s like she doesn’t want you to forget.

I don’t know her; I won’t villainize her.
I’m sure she’s a lovely girl. But, sorry-not-sorry, she won’t give you the world.

Like I will, if you’ll let me. It just honestly doesn’t make sense.
How could she let you live life alone when you’ve been begging to be seen?

I see you, John. I’ve seen you since the moment we met.
I don’t want to give up on us—not ever, not just yet.

You’re telling me she could have had you this entire time,
Yet just recently she let you know that you’ve “always been on her mind.”

I’m not calling her a liar—it’s not hard to see why that could be the case.
But I’m just worried she is playing a silly game of chase.

Whereas I am playing the long game; I’m not going anywhere.
I want your love, your heart—****, I want your last name.

Maybe I’m the one who is delusional, or ridiculous, or crazy.
Honestly, I can’t help it; ever since I’ve met you, everything in my life has been a little hazy.

The only real clarity I’ve been able to see is you.
While everything else is dark and hopeless, the only thing keeping me going is how my feelings are true.

I’ve never felt this way, John. There are no words to describe how I feel.
Saying “I love you” doesn’t come close to expressing how this has to be the real deal.

The love poets write about, the kind people die for.
I swear to God, these feelings shake me down to my core.

I BURN for you, in every ******* imaginable way.
You are always in my head and heart, every second of every day.

I want you to know you are so loved, whether it’s me you pick or not.
I’m constantly trying to figure out if I should give up or continue shooting my shot.

You see, I don’t want to make this harder on you; you don’t deserve to feel torn.
I just want to fight for this, fight for you, fight for us—because the love I feel we’d have is all I’ve ever wanted since I was born.

My body literally shakes just thinking about you.
My emotions are so strong, I genuinely don’t know what else to do.

This is something special, something truly unique.
A love I know you and I have always tried to seek.

We could have the world’s sweetest love story, two people completely obsessed with each other.
But to get there, we both have to endure this current purgatory.

I know you don’t want to hurt anyone, and if I have to I’ll take one for the team.
Because, truly, I’d rather be the one to die than have any more shots taken to your self-esteem.

You are beautiful and wonderful—what the world needs more of.
I have no problem expressing that you’re the one that I love.

If she feels this way too, then I won’t be able to assist.
But honestly, I can’t see that happening—how did she not know she loved you from the moment she realized you exist?

Because that’s what happened to me. And yeah, I wear my heart on my sleeve.
Maybe that’s my problem, but I don’t care; I actually believe.

I believe in us and what we could become.
I believe we could be the greatest love story—a love so strong we’d both forget what it ever felt like to be numb.

I want that for you, more so than for me.
I want you to feel true happiness and love—I want your soul to be set free.

Free from the pain, from the demons you keep.
I just want to be the person you wake up next to and the one you’re with when you fall asleep.

I don’t want to make this harder on you; I just want to express how I feel.
Because I know she’ll do the same, but I hope you can tell which one is more real.

I don’t know about you, but I want someone who is sure they love me—that I’m their home.
I don’t want someone who, after years, finally decides they want to be with me because it’s better than being alone.

If, after all this, I’m still not the one you choose,
Please don’t worry about me. Even though, I’m sensitive and easily bruised.

But don’t let your heart be heavy. Don’t worry about me at all.
Because, although I hope I’m your person (and honestly, I feel I am), this story—our story—will always be my favorite to recall.

I love you. I adore you. I’m yours, if you’ll have me.
We could have the world’s sweetest love story—that’s a promise I can guarantee.

Vanilla. The bitter scent of a coffeehouse
mixed with sweet beautiful intelligence;
perfection; spontaneity.

Words run on the pages, joy can be found
in even the smallest of things.
Grounded; confident.

The white of innocence, not a single stain,
multicolored beige brings professionalism
in all its forms.

Life is a game of who knows who.
It’s impossible not to know her.

Abstract strings are pulled and tugged
until even the sturdiest of structures fall,
leaving the remnants on the ground to be
picked up one by one.

A sole painting filled with the reds of anger,
of love. The black and white stark
against the murkiness. Even the gold,
highlighting what went missing.

One. They’re still one. A little girl,
the blond bundles pulled into two
on the top of her head, seeing the world
from her father’s eyes.

Childish; just like he was,
once upon a time.

Just like he was, when those eyes focused
on the tough blue of denim, when
a fight was never an argument,
it was a game.

Who is right, who is wrong,
none of that matters if one never
backs down. She would never
back down.

She was never spontaneous.
She was a planner. Always one
to hold a grudge, always one
to win.

She was first. First
kiss, first love,
first date.

Her hair fell down on her shoulders
in curls, down in spirals
bringing him down as he fell.

He fell hard, looping back around
to the other side. Choosing jeans
over a painting. Choosing the chaos
over the calm. Choosing the calm
of a fight over nothing at all.

It was with her
that he’d find his love story.

Words, words hurt even if they are just restating facts.
Facts somehow now twisted by how they were originally delivered.
Passing on information to people I think should know.
Know for my heart, know for my peace of mind.
But jealousy it seems should always be forgotten.
Talking about it magnifies it beyond what it is, just slight and simple.
I made a man into a monster in her eyes.
Something he doesn't deserve.
I sit in the midst of a love triangle in which the woman doesn't want either of us.
She just wanted to be friends with both of us.
Now her urge to be more intimate with me as a friend is blocked by a barrage of concentration on a subject that should be so light and whimsical.
And a friend who had his heart crushed by seeing that intimacy.
I feel like a wolf, these words bite and wrangle, and won't dissipate for 100 years, says Muhammad, pbuh.
I always think work will become easier, but tests multiply, and it stays hard - hard in heart.

forbidden love.
tattered art.
an endless story,
of broken hearts.
a girl loves a boy,
a little cliché.
but forever, she hopes,
he will never go away.
a girl loves a boy,
the other girls friend.
She can never love him;
her love will never end.
two girls love a boy
but he can love neither,
he cries to break himself down
and to build them up higher
so the answer is simple;
who he must choose
a boy cant love someone,
when he cant even love himself