sinking into cushions
i ask myself
is this silence
a wound
or a gift

my friends have vanished
into their own worlds
this is what love does
it swallows people whole

maybe the absence
is my reflection
me and the glowing screen
sharing secrets
until sleep

i whisper lies
humans were made
to be islands
i tell myself
and i try
to believe it

I think I saw a ghost today.
I’ve moved away,
but there you were,
standing on the corner,
waiting to cross the street.

I thought you were dead —
but unfortunately,
you’re healthy and well.
I thought you’d fall apart
after I left.

In the end,
I think you were just afraid
of my intensity.
You said you’d love me forever,
and the next day
you didn’t love me at all.
A one-night love.

Just know —
every night,
I stand on my balcony
As Juliet
and whisper things
to the moonlit night,
to the city wind,
so it can carry those caresses
back to you.

I’ll be the ghost
haunting you.

if words could heal
i would cover my body
with them
like bandages

but what can i say
when you look happier now
than you ever did
with me

i tell myself
it is better this way
everything happens for a reason
what doesn’t **** us
makes us stronger

yet i no longer know
if i am dead
or alive
only that it hurts

i pray to gods
i am not sure exist

and the longer time passes
the more i realize
the period you used
to end our story
felt less like freedom
and more like a nail
in my coffin

i watch her
put on makeup every day

not to look prettier
but to cover the sadness

she thinks i don’t see it
but i do—
her smile stops at her eyes

these days have been heavy
she stays in the bedroom
i hide in other rooms

someone has to move first
maybe the cure is in
taking off our masks
sharing cheap wine by the fire
talking nonsense
instead of pointing fingers

i know we can talk
without shouting

we can start again
as if it were
our first date

I must confess —
I reached the gates of heaven,
peeked inside,
and chose to turn back.

You weren’t there,
so it wasn’t worth it.

It’s not as if I hadn’t tried;
I know I was a good person.
But this surprise
I did not expect.

I didn’t want to make this public —
people wouldn’t understand.
How could I give up glory?
But you were more glorious.

I knew sooner or later
this would come to an end.
I hope you’re crying for me,
because I slit my wrists for you,
hoping to find myself
alive.

I’m writing this
knowing you’ll never read it.
I don’t even know if you you regconize me.

But sometimes
I play our song —
that beat only we would recognize,
the one you sent me in the middle of the night
when we were teenagers,
buried among countless other songs,
but this one stayed,
etched in my heart.

In our dreams,
I hold our baby in my arms
and hum it as a lullaby.
It’s perfect for that.

As I sway softly to the music,
my heart warms and aches,
as if, in some other universe,
this dream wasn’t a dream at all
but a truth.

I love you — you know that.
Or maybe the love I have to give
was never enough for you.
Or maybe it was.
I’m not sure anymore.

We are confused, inconsistent,
like the shift between seasons.
You never know whether to bring a coat or an umbrella,
so we linger in the in-between.

Either way,
the song is saved in my favorite playlist.
I know it’s in yours too.
It’s proof that what we felt for each other
was real.

I can feel your nerves from here.
You didn’t expect our love story
to take this turn.

It may seem insignificant,
but that’s how life works —
when we least expect it,
it sweeps our feet from under us.

They say love is forever
while it lasts.
I guess we’re somewhere in the middle.
We’ve earned a C.

I won’t text you,
or show up out of nowhere
in your life again.
We don’t need to repeat this script.

But I hope you make peace
with our memories,
with the good moments we shared.
Those, at least,
will be eternal.

We can’t go back to the beginning.
If we had known the ending,
would we still be on this road?

But I understand —
you want to know what it’s like
to be far from home,
why I can’t sleep at night.

I understand.

You want to know
why I always order the same drink twice
at that bar on the corner.

I understand.

You want to know
what it’s like to stand
on the wrong side of the history.
And honestly,
there comes a moment
when you get used to it,
and it starts to feel right.

It’s okay.
I’m okay now.

But I appreciate the concern —
keep digging,
keep asking about my life,
and one day
you’ll know about me.