Crossing the ocean of endless stars
Will you be there waiting for me,
Or do I have to still my heart
And antagonize the entire nature of my character.

Opened feelings, no fear at all
I took out the deepest part of me
And bathed in your light,
Only for you to shove me back into the endless ocean of void.

It was the scent of the sea that opened the memory,
Where sunlight blurred my vision, and I saw you
Tall, dark hair, eyes that charm,
And a smile that negated everything wrong in my world.

I wish the story wouldn't end.
I have to walk back into the cairn of insecure souls,
Wandering aimlessly, pondering what they did wrong
In this life or the next.

I dream of escape, of finally leaving the void behind.

You showed me forests,
and didn’t flinch when I stopped
to admire a tree like it had something to say.
You didn’t mock the way I paused—
studying branches like ancient friends.
You let me wander
with soil on my fingers
and wonder on my face,
and you never asked me to be less.

There is something so frightening
about being seen—
but you did it
without making it feel like exposure.
You let me be wonderstruck,
let me be loud,
let me vanish into quiet.
You never tried to fix it.
You just made room.

You made me feel like I wasn’t wrong
for being soft
in a world that teaches sharpness.
You made me laugh like the world wasn’t ending.

You made space for my awe—
for the little girl in me
who never learned to stop wondering.
And around you,
my heart laughed like her again—
loud, joyful, barefoot,
free.

It felt like being allowed to exist
without needing to be interesting.
And I didn’t know how much I needed that
until you gave it.

We shared coffee in the aftermath—
those mornings,
warm sheets,
skin still humming.
You made us coffee.
I stayed in bed,
watching the light move across your back
like it knew you.

We didn’t rush to make sense of the day.
We let it bloom slowly—
our bodies folded into each other
like pages in a book
no one else would ever read.

Later,
I found seashells on a walk
and kept them
like proof
that something small and beautiful
can survive pressure and time.

In the evenings,
we filled our mouths with good wine and good food,
laughed like people
who had known each other
long before this lifetime.
You let me be bright.
You let me take up space.
And I did—
unhidden,
a little too much,
exactly enough.

I didn’t apologize for my joy.
You didn’t ask me to.
You only filled my glass
and kissed the corner of my smile.
You smiled like my brightness
wasn’t something to fear.

My heart laughed in those moments,
like a child who no longer had to prove her joy.
You didn’t just see me—
you recognized me.
Around you,
my joy felt safe.

We danced like idiots in the kitchen,
sang badly in the car
like the songs were written for us,
moved like no one was watching—
because somehow,
that’s how you made the world feel:
empty of judgment,
full of room.

And now,
when the days stretch too far without you,
my heart panics.
It wants to knock on your door,
not for answers—
just for nearness.

Your soul feels familiar.
Your touch—
not new,
just remembered.

Even the hard parts
feel like something worth returning to.
Not because it’s easy—
but because it’s real.

And when I think it’s too far,
too hard,
too uncertain—
I remember your voice,
and how your touch felt like déjà vu.

Whatever this is—
it isn’t fragile.
It isn’t imagined.
And I won’t cheapen it with a name.
I won’t insult it with a label.

But if you asked,
I’d meet you in the forest again.
And again.
And again.

Whispers deep within, cry out “hear me, here in,”
I desire to be heard,
I desire to be seen,
I desire to be acknowledged, as something more than what could have been.

You’ve tried to ignore it,
You’ve tried to do what’s right,
What’s sensible, what’s to be applauded,
Rather than what your heart yearns: to be revelled in delight!

Pure indulgence,
Disdainful scorn,
Narcissisms decadence,
All that should be off-sworn.

But denial has only left me stuck,
I have lived a cognitive dissonance existence,
A state of **** and muck.
I wish for more, I want to rise above the resistance, insistence and self-persistence…

I wish to be MORE curious,
I wish to be larger,
I wish to be more spontaneous,
And live a life full, but not “full” of what ifs, that’s what I rather.

So here I am,
Now, what do I do?!
.
.
.
.
Take the next step…

into the dream,

For there, I hope,  will be the next clue!

And so,
I looked back at the fire behind me
At all the orange and ash
I set down my pail
And my hardness sat with it
And I wept
And the scorched earth around me
Began to soften
And only then, did I know
Only in the eye of the storm,
Could I see
That I had not escaped

I had simply become one
With the flame

we didn’t need music
just the hum of the fridge
and the dog barking two floors down.
the sheets were half off the bed,
her hair in knots,
my hands shaking
like I’d lived a hundred lives
and never touched something so real.

Serena—
she looked at me like she already knew
where the cracks were
and kissed me there first.
no ceremony,
just heat and breath
and two ******-up hearts
trying to beat in time.

she moaned like it mattered,
like the world might stop spinning
if we didn’t keep going.
I bit her lip, she scratched my back,
we left bruises that felt like
truth.

afterward,
she lit a cigarette
with a hand still trembling
and said,
"we’re not broken,
just bruised in the right places."
and I believed her.

I smiled so wide my molars got jealous.
Everyone said I looked stunning.
I said thank you in the voice I reserve for customer service and playing dumb.
That’s the closest I’ve come to a scream
this week.

I wore the dress that says: I’m over it.
(It lies.)
I walked like a question mark
straightened out with rage.

There was a man in the corner
making balloon animals.
He asked what I wanted.
I said surprise me.
He handed me a noose
shaped like a swan.

No one noticed.
Or maybe that’s just what I tell myself
to feel interesting.

Later, someone told a joke
I didn’t get.
I laughed like I was being watched.

The punchline wasn’t funny.
It just echoed
like something I would’ve said
before I got careful.

I stood in the kitchen
with a paper plate of olives and nothing,
holding it like proof
I was doing fine.

Someone spilled wine on the couch.
I said I’ve ruined better things.
Everyone laughed
like I meant it to be charming.
(I didn’t.)

A girl in white heels asked me
how I knew the host.
I said same way I know most people—
by accident,
and with the kind of premonition that wears perfume.

The bathroom mirror was cracked.
I counted the breaks like confessions
and chose not to atone.
The soap smelled like fruit
that only exists in dreams
you wake up crying from.

I reapplied my lip stain
like armor,
like alibi,
like an exit strategy.

Then I left without saying goodbye
because I couldn’t figure out
how to do it quietly
and still be missed.