#healingthroughwriting
2 cups of burnt memories,
Each grain holds sorrow more than glory.
A pinch of loneliness,
In which more is never less.
A spoonful of tears of sorrow,
Unfulfilled promises that weigh tomorrow.
Knead the broken heart into a dough,
Sing about life, how it always gets low.
Patience of yeast, let it sit.
So much space, yet soft dough forced to fit.
Shove it inside the oven of unbearable pain,
Hardness and numbness burn in every flame.
After a break of untimely rain,
Open the soul which lost its name.
Sprinkle a spoon of broken dreams,
Season with hopeless, clouded cream.
How to face the result if it comes as
waste?
Now, dear reader, it's time for you to taste.
If it tastes bad, kindly don't blame
Every baker, unfortunately, is never the same.
Pardon that the golden color is always late.
What to do? This world never left
more ingredients in my cabinet.
Apr 6
Apr 6, 2026 at 3:33 PM UTC
The ache pulls and breaks,
apparently these were the stakes.
My heart shattered into pieces,
the world rotting with diseases,
to purge it clean of all the fakes.
My heart was innocent and pure,
I truly thought you were the cure.
Love turned into hatred,
egos became inflated,
and sadly I fell for your lure.
Human nature is a disgusting sight,
I’d rather be out flying a kite.
But not today,
I have something to say:
no knight is coming to save you tonight.
Mar 16
Mar 16, 2026 at 6:38 PM UTC
Been on the market for some time, but not really waiting
for what’s in store. __This heart__ — a brittle scaffold,
holding up a thousand regrets, building into a house
of missteps. It’s got too many stairs, and I keep misjudging
a couple steps. The pain feels unreal, reaching backward,
but everything we’ve done always lives in the past — _to pass._
The scars on my skin bear soil erosion; the body remembers
what the mind buries. And my teeth — slowly eroding —
still carry a brave smile, as if pretending counts as healing.
Sure, I can fake confidence, sure — but only for others.
Never for myself. No, not truly. Because really what’s
the point of buying into that sort of thing, when the price
of pretending always costs more than it’s worth?
Oct 18, 2025
Oct 18, 2025 at 2:25 PM UTC
_A blemish_ across the mark of my skin —
screamed into a corner, I’ve screened my
eyes. My chest is like a TV screen, the flashes
of _a dream_ —the world waits for me to
tell a vision.
If I write, I could write, so good and well —
my finger type: printing stories on these pages,
_A dogs-ear_ bent down to listen, to serve the law
as it runs. how long the mile? A canine chasing
commands.
_A man afraid of the light_, finding comfort
in a shadow. shadowing the past, living
best when hidden in the shade of regrets.
our mistakes are perfect at throwing shade.
Shall I live the blemish of a dream —folded
onto itself, my best days creased like dog-ears,
marking important chapters of my life.
But a man so afraid of the light forgets there
are two kinds: the one that reveals his darkness,
and the one he’ll face at the end of his life.
Still — we must step out from the shadows
of our mistakes. Eventually, you find a time
to shine.
Aug 31, 2025
Aug 31, 2025 at 6:47 AM UTC
Altar regrets; please don’t alter my texts –
or delete my last request; as lust requests
you do what feels good, but it all becomes
tomorrow’s bad mistake, dressed out in
yesterday’s breath.
At the front of my books – my body language
in bold font is what I’ll flaunt; though at times,
I’m not so bold at being myself...
Physical or digital – _spiritual or literal_ –
loaning some faith on empty days,
loading some company when I feel
I’m moving through life at my lonesome,
feeling loathsome.
But take your time; write your own books if you
want to – just don’t forget the lessons you’ve read.
Despite being blue-ticked in person, my presence
and influence still get left on read...
I can’t claim ownership of everything; crying for
it all, till my eyes are painted red.
As each good word you’ve received is a divine gift –
to defy the rifts; to train and define your divine gifts,
learn to prune the sickness from your vine so new
creation can live... value the chance to forgive —
make every reason solid, for choosing to live.
Aug 8, 2025
Aug 8, 2025 at 1:38 AM UTC
This is the prelude to a corny poem — not by genre, but by gesture.
The kind of moment you text someone who can never quite let go.
A character who, the more you explain yourself, builds up their
anger, like Lego — stacked tight, no gaps. _Great, now you're blocked!_
It’s the same game; they say they’re breaking down like Tetris,
but you’re the last crooked piece, a corner away from clarity, from
giving out a proper response, but you're stuck at a stop sign called
Writer’s Block.
(Not to say I grew up on the streets —but a soft smile is what I
use to pave the way of finding peace.) And whether this turns into
a path toward a kiss all depends how well you’ve cemented your
foundations, for your intentions to come out firm and concrete.
Not to sink into gossip, like spilled tea on the front steps of the
neighbour down the street. Because not every door you knock on
is one built for your peace. Not every neighbour you greet is a
neighbourhood of people open to giving you some peace.
Community grief isn’t all of our concerns to give… so call me rude,
but I don’t like to deal with everyone’s grief. So when I see you
approaching, I might walk in the other direction of this street.
Especially if I’ve already read all the signs but you chose to walk
into that direction. Now you stand in your wreckage, asking me
for directions, as if I’m still your GPS for healing.
Making me appear lost for words, stuck again at Writer’s Block —
where metaphors turn to mortar, and the silence right between us
starts stacking brick by brick. A friendship we were supposed to
build up as something worthwhile. But the foundation we built
it all on was something we never hoped for.
Aug 4, 2025
Aug 4, 2025 at 3:48 AM UTC
Turn off the lights — I’m fighting myself in the dark.
My skin, a caressing sun; roses fall and kiss me
with lip-shaped petals, trying to open me wide.
But they’ll censor you — they’ll look away, so you
don’t shine as bright as you are.
And me? I pluck myself from a group of self-doubts.
At the pace of this age, I slow, though youth fast-feeds
through my hands, trying to unearth green shoots
of heaven’s cheer. A chosen emotion rises — as if my
heart readies itself for a rapture. Earthen hands *****
out dreams from soil. To be called a ***** — or to *****
others? _What a question to be_.
As I’m plotting in the potting shed, where we shared
hope like dew-struck grass. We watered our dreams
with tears, and have felt baptized in fear. Shaking daily
at the grip of then —as if winter left its bare bones in my
hands. But I’m not ready to net a coy smile, not when my
butterfly net carries extra holes.
As all my hopes lie on the ground, seeds waiting to be
buried in the dark —waiting to grow. The lights of faith
are shut. And must I wait for fireworks to explode across
my sky again, like next year’s celebrations? But I won’t
shut my eyes this time. Yet I’ll stay open, just in case
tomorrow decides to find me first.
Aug 2, 2025
Aug 2, 2025 at 4:33 PM UTC
it is when you came and the world made me realized that even the saddest person alive, hiding in her room, afraid of the light will find her way going back to life. trust me, it is hard to believe but when you told me you love me, everything has changed. life became easier, i can move freely, walk cheerfully. with you, i don't mind everyone around. with you, i don't want to be with anyone else.
fill me with your love, hug me as tight as you can and i will never let you go again. love me and i will love you with all of my heart. i will hold your hand until i will reach the finish line of my dreams and will drag you with me as i exceed further. i want to be with you forever while getting the victory for myself, for you, and for those who love me. i will never let go of you.
look above the sky and watch all the dazzling stars shines like glitter. help me mesmerize the beautiful scenery above us. let the silence ambiance and the moonlight seize our sanity until it will make us both dizzy. at least, this can make us feel that we are hugging each other. we may be miles away from each other but just look above the moon, you and i are staring at the same moon even at the same time.
May 28, 2025
May 28, 2025 at 3:08 AM UTC
Wandering the road, the cold wind that embraces me,
heading to the place where we first met.
Your hand clasped to mine, glimpsing the smile,
and your deep, fascinating voice that captures my heart.
Singing our favorite song in chorus
making our trip unforgettable.
The miles we traveled are nothing to the happiness
we felt when we're together.
Rustling of the leaves, calming and refreshing surroundings.
Both we sat under the tree, having some picnic
and spending a day free from thoughts and negativity.
Spending time through reading books
written by the author we both loved.
Sharing opinions and expressing concern
about issues in society that interest us.
And now, it's been a year since you left me.
I remember...
We were both excited to see each other that day.
Wearing my red dress, elegant heels and jewelries
you bought and told me to wear.
Walking from side to side trembling,
craving for your hugs and kisses.
My lips curved, my heart palpitated as your name popped up
in my phone telling me you are here already.
From afar, I saw you, holding a bouquet
and a box.
Running to you, calling your name,
exchanging I love you's.
It's painful...
I felt like I was about to collapse as I sat next to your body lying in the middle of the road,
caressing your cheek, feeling your tears on my hands,
mixed with red liquid and I saw the ring fall out from the box.
May 28, 2025
May 28, 2025 at 3:01 AM UTC