Life is a collection of small moments, and within them, we find the essence of our existence. I’ve learned that comfort comes not from a place of constant joy but from an understanding that emotions, like the tides, ebb and flow. The key is acceptance; of sadness, of anxiety, of the inevitable uncertainties that life throws our way.

I now realize that healing often comes from unexpected sources, in acts of stillness, in the appreciation of simplicity. A cup of coffee, a walk in nature, reading under a big willow tree; all these carry the power to ground us when the world feels overwhelming. I’ve learned that it’s okay to pause, to take a breath and acknowledge that being alive is itself a victory.

I’ve come to see that comparison is the thief of peace. Life’s paths are varied, and each of us moves at our own pace. By detaching from expectations and external validation, I find a more authentic form of contentment. Resilience doesn’t mean being unbreakable but understanding that we are allowed to be soft, allowed to lean on others when needed. There is strength in vulnerability, in admitting our fears and imperfections.

Ultimately, life isn’t about grand gestures but about how we treat ourselves in the quieter moments. It’s about nurturing our inner peace, about forgiving ourselves when we fall short, and about recognizing that we are enough as we are, in this moment. The journey toward peace is ongoing, but in each step, there is the possibility of grace.

—

In moments small, life shifts and flows,
With highs and lows, as each day goes.
Embrace what comes, both joy and pain,
For nothing stays, and change remains.

In simple acts, in quiet rest,
We find the calm that serves us best.
The cracks we bear, the flaws we show,
Are where the seeds of growth can grow.

We walk our path at our own speed,
No need to rush, no urge to lead.
In softness, strength, in stillness, care,
We’re enough, just as we are, right here.

— Sincerely, Boris

I was smitten from the first time I met you.
It’s just a feeling, like...
When you look at me, I can’t even breathe.
I was just a little boy with a crush on you.
But now, I don't know.
Maybe it’s just too late for us.

Whispering comes,
leaving needless destinations
for our feet to find
when we are always
crying on the shoulders,
where the temptations
decide where we
want to hide.

Love blows
in different directions
its sterile seeds,
raising nothing more than
husks to create more of
those familiar shadows.

For we will be
always yearning to
discover what we
were not meant to believe,
remaining lost on a highway
that never upkeeps speed.

Wanting saviors
to dispel the same whispers
we both turned our attention to,
dividing our forms down,
from the head
to our aching gut.

Whispering will cease,
after we've recognized that this
was never a treasure to kiss.
We believed in miracles
when all we received
are the same scraps
to feed desperate hearts.

For once, I would like a ruler.
A really big one, large enough to span all time,
or my time at least – which isn’t too much to ask.
To draw a straight line through life,
and make it all fall in, drill sergeant style.
Free me of all the jumps and bumps,
dancing about the hurdles which
slow me to halts,
as if life were a blob of mashed potatoes;
surfing through its smooth white clouds,
like a true California girl.

For once, can it be a tunnel?
No more mazes of roads and streets,
avenues, crescents, highways and lanes.
To close  my eyes, raise my hands,
and push my bare foot into the pedal,
unafraid of the walls of people.
For it all to be a bowling alley
with the railings up and a ramp to slide down.
To shamelessly ride with pink, bedazzled training wheels
and a lemon learners plaque
to blind all nosy parkers up my ***.

For once, wouldn’t it be nice if it all could line up,
so I could be, for once, entirely happy.

All I seem to remember
Are the hollow eyes
Peeking from behind damp walls
Walls dripping with misery and the cold winters day
In a land where no flowers break through the heavy clay
Even though they try their best
The beast always catches them at the stem
Tears the blossoms out in calm rage
The feeling sold by its empty eyes
Like a useless spy
Wandering the streets sick with smoke
And liquor

Under starfull skies
Praying to God for a comet
To yell my wish at:
“Oh,to be more than just a clump of cells and flesh and bones
Patching together my soul
Creating something mine
The only thing I can call so“
Because I know each breach carved with the steady occupation
I could lead your hands into the gaps dug by
My litospheric plates moving
                                                   shifting
                                                                colliding
Far too soon

Now I have forests and mountain ranges
Peeking out of my veins
Spreading the dark ecosystem of my mind
I can feel the frost and the gloom biting trough my skin
The fog covering my every inch

Fangs dangerously close to bones
The only part clean of the parasites
Unlike my tunnel-disrupted skin
The penetrated veins sticking out of it

Slowly decaying away
While my heart fills my leaking body with new blood
Sisyphean effort
The life that goes to waste
But stains the flesh a vibrant red
My half-alive corpse
The only thing radiant on this grey lifeless street

The monster slowly kneels down to my side
Pierces its talon through my bone
Sells me to death
Leaves my core to rot
Defeating its defences like an unknown weapon
Injecting terror into the cold white stuff tangled around my heart
                                                                                     stuck around my veins

It sets me onto fire
Letting its own creation burn
For the sake of its pleasures
As the luscious woods burn to just skeletons and dust
The hollow eyes filling with the shadows of the light
As it snarls
A twisted caricature of a smile

I saw that text one night.
I read every line over and over again
I can’t believe you said that
I thought of the best way to respond
I was honest with you
Though my message was shorter,
I meant every word
Once it sent,
I blocked you
On everything.
You wanted nothing to do with me
Why should you know about me?

I heard what you told our friends one day.
I was told over and over again
I can't believe you said that
You wanted me to be scared
You wanted me to change
You cried to them saying that’s what you wanted to happen
Life isn’t fair
I meant every word
We were done.
There was nothing you could do

I know about the things you said about me.
You repeated them over and over again
I knew what you were going to do
You tried to paint me the bad guy
Make the fallout seem like my fault
What happened to you saying you would **** yourself without me?
How come saying you were done with me painted me as the terminator?
Life isn't fair
You should know that by now
Actions have consequences
If you didn’t want me to leave,
You shouldn’t have reacted the way you did

You apparently told someone what you were going to send before you did
You told my friend since preschool
They sided with you
I’ve known them my whole life
They’ve known you for not even two years
Life isn’t fair
I should know that by now
But it still hurt

I saw that text one night.
And I hate to admit it,
But I cried

should we ever meet again
I hope it happens when it rains
like a scene from a romantic movie
our hearts might turn empty

I hope you'll be doing better than me;
once I hoped the exact opposite
I wanted you to be down in the dumps
like a person laden with parasites

but seems I've matured now
I let go of all feelings sour
I write poetry thinking of you
yes, of course I still do

perhaps we'll laugh when our eyes meet
it could be at a mutual friend's wedding
I'll probably walk you all the way to the street
we'll say our goodbyes, our lips smiling

you know I wouldn't go back to the wedding
instead I'd be getting drunk at a bar nearby
my mind filled with the sweetest memories of you'
it'll be my death all over again
should we ever meet again...