#heartfeltwords
— a journey through lost connections —
________________________________________
We were…
once close enough
to feel each other’s breath
in the quiet
now—
there’s distance
not just miles
but moments
we can’t get back
time…
slipping through our hands
like water we tried
so hard to hold
… ❤️ 🌊 ❤️ …
And still—
love doesn’t leave
it lingers
steady
stubborn
alive
our souls—
somehow still
in rhythm
even now
your eyes—
I remember them
how they sparkled
like they knew something
the world didn’t
… ❤️ 🌊 ❤️ …
We laughed…
God, we laughed
at nothing
at everything
at the little things
that only made sense
to us
your quirks
my flaws
they fit
like pieces
that didn’t belong anywhere else
… ❤️ 🌊 ❤️ …
And now—
I miss
what isn’t here anymore
not just you
but us
the version of us
that felt
unbreakable
… ❤️ 🌊 ❤️ …
Now I ask…
why?
why aren’t we one?
why does something so real
become
so distant
… ❤️ 🌊 ❤️ …
No answers
just questions
echoing
across the space
between us
like two hearts
still beating
but separated
by an ocean
… ❤️ 🌊 ❤️ …
By Paul Baldry (LongJohn)
Mar 22
Mar 22, 2026 at 8:23 AM UTC
— two stories, one silence —
________________________________________
A father…
takes down a photograph
not gently
not carelessly
but like it still breathes
like it still holds warmth
… 👨👧🖼️ …
He presses it
to his chest
the same way he once held
his child
close
safe
whole
… 👨👧🖼️ …
He remembers her…
the sound of her laughter
how it filled rooms
without trying
how sunlight seemed
to follow her
like it knew
she belonged to it
… 👨👧🖼️ …
A twinkle in her eye
chasing butterflies
like the world
was nothing but wonder
… 👨👧🖼️ …
And he remembers that moment—
when she told him
what she’d become
the pride
Heartful… the pride
that lived in his chest
… 👨👧🖼️ …
He smiled
he kissed her goodbye
like fathers do
like it’s just another day
… 👨👧🖼️ …
But war…
war doesn’t recognise love
it doesn’t pause
it doesn’t care
about laughter
or butterflies
or fathers
… 👨👧🖼️ …
It writes its own ending
in smoke
in fire
in silence
… 👨👧🖼️ …
And sometimes…
daughters come home
but not as they left
not with laughter
not with light
… 👨👧🖼️ …
but wrapped
in something heavier
than any father
should ever have to carry
… 👨👧🖼️ …
And somewhere else—
another father
stands with another photograph
… 👨👧🖼️ …
This one…
his son
… 👨👦🖼️ …
He remembers strength
growing year by year
small hands
becoming steady
a boy
becoming a man
… 👨👧🖼️ …
Laughter that echoed
not soft
but full
alive
… 👨👦🖼️ …
He watched him grow
with pride
with hope
with that quiet belief
that everything
would be alright
… 👨👧🖼️ …
because that’s what fathers do
they believe
even when the world
gives them reason not to
… 👨👦🖼️ …
And when life twisted—
when the path turned
when things became uncertain
he stood there
steady
unmoving
supportive
… 👨👧🖼️ …
because love
doesn’t step back
… 👨👦🖼️ …
But war…
war doesn’t ask
who is loved
it doesn’t choose gently
it doesn’t spare
… 👨👧🖼️ …
It takes
and takes
and takes
… 👨👦🖼️ …
And sons…
they come home too
… 👨👧🖼️ …
but not always whole
not always smiling
not always the same
… 👨👧🖼️ …
sometimes carrying
things no one can see
sometimes leaving
pieces of themselves
behind
… 👨👧🖼️ …
And in the quiet—
in the stillness
after everything
there are fathers
holding photographs
like they’re holding
time itself
… 👨👧🖼️ …
remembering
what was
what should have been
what will never
be again
… 👨👧🖼️ …
because love…
doesn’t end
even when everything else
does
… 👨👧🖼️ …
— Paul Baldry (LongJohn)
Mar 22
Mar 22, 2026 at 9:09 AM UTC
— two stories, one silence —
________________________________________
A father…
takes down a photograph
not gently
not carelessly
but like it still breathes
like it still holds warmth
… 👨👧🖼️ …
He presses it
to his chest
the same way he once held
his child
close
safe
whole
… 👨👧🖼️ …
He remembers her…
the sound of her laughter
how it filled rooms
without trying
how sunlight seemed
to follow her
like it knew
she belonged to it
… 👨👧🖼️ …
A twinkle in her eye
chasing butterflies
like the world
was nothing but wonder
… 👨👧🖼️ …
And he remembers that moment—
when she told him
what she’d become
the pride
Heartful… the pride
that lived in his chest
… 👨👧🖼️ …
He smiled
he kissed her goodbye
like fathers do
like it’s just another day
… 👨👧🖼️ …
But war…
war doesn’t recognise love
it doesn’t pause
it doesn’t care
about laughter
or butterflies
or fathers
… 👨👧🖼️ …
It writes its own ending
in smoke
in fire
in silence
… 👨👧🖼️ …
And sometimes…
daughters come home
but not as they left
not with laughter
not with light
… 👨👧🖼️ …
but wrapped
in something heavier
than any father
should ever have to carry
… 👨👧🖼️ …
And somewhere else—
another father
stands with another photograph
… 👨👧🖼️ …
This one…
his son
… 👨👦🖼️ …
He remembers strength
growing year by year
small hands
becoming steady
a boy
becoming a man
… 👨👧🖼️ …
Laughter that echoed
not soft
but full
alive
… 👨👦🖼️ …
He watched him grow
with pride
with hope
with that quiet belief
that everything
would be alright
… 👨👧🖼️ …
because that’s what fathers do
they believe
even when the world
gives them reason not to
… 👨👦🖼️ …
And when life twisted—
when the path turned
when things became uncertain
he stood there
steady
unmoving
supportive
… 👨👧🖼️ …
because love
doesn’t step back
… 👨👦🖼️ …
But war…
war doesn’t ask
who is loved
it doesn’t choose gently
it doesn’t spare
… 👨👧🖼️ …
It takes
and takes
and takes
… 👨👦🖼️ …
And sons…
they come home too
… 👨👧🖼️ …
but not always whole
not always smiling
not always the same
… 👨👧🖼️ …
sometimes carrying
things no one can see
sometimes leaving
pieces of themselves
behind
… 👨👧🖼️ …
And in the quiet—
in the stillness
after everything
there are fathers
holding photographs
like they’re holding
time itself
… 👨👧🖼️ …
remembering
what was
what should have been
what will never
be again
… 👨👧🖼️ …
because love…
doesn’t end
even when everything else
does
… 👨👧🖼️ …
— Paul Baldry (LongJohn)
Mar 24
Mar 24, 2026 at 4:41 AM UTC
They aren’t only them anymore—
they’re a place I return to
without moving.
A corridor of childhood laughter,
where my steps were lighter,
where someone’s presence
felt like a small festival in my chest.
I remember
how I used to wait—
not with patience,
but with spark.
Not for words,
not for promises,
just to see them
and feel… enough.
And maybe that’s what stayed.
Not their voice,
not their face as it is today—
but the way I existed
when they were around.
Soft.
Seen.
Safe in a way
I didn’t have to question.
So I keep searching for them
in every new face—
but they arrive as strangers,
while they…
still feel like home.
And now I understand—
I’m not holding onto them,
I’m holding onto
a version of me
that once knew how to shine
without trying.
Mar 20
Mar 20, 2026 at 10:55 AM UTC
We began like a Kachha Mango
raw, restless, alive.
We ended like Dairy Milk
sweet... but quiet inside.
The sweetness never changed,
so why did the doting fade?
Why so hidden like a god in stone,
meant to be felt, never shown?
Where did our half-bloom go
too flimsy to be real?
Real enough to feel,
yet not real enough to stay. 🍫
@NomaInfine777
Mar 10
Mar 10, 2026 at 1:31 AM UTC
"Getting stranger vibes from your close ones really hurts alot."
Jul 14, 2025
Jul 14, 2025 at 5:57 AM UTC
We all run after the ones
who don’t even turn to see us,
while the ones who truly care—
we leave waiting in the shadows.
And by the time we realize,
the gems are gone.
Yes… we are humans.
Flawed, emotional, and often, just a little too late.
Jul 6, 2025
Jul 6, 2025 at 1:07 AM UTC
A family is not only all about:
Vacations . affectionate gestures . luxuries . reputation
But in simple terms, it is all about:
Some quality time . Eating meals together . Sharing each others concerns .
A home of emotions, unity and togetherness.
Jul 4, 2025
Jul 4, 2025 at 8:20 AM UTC
I'd capture the wind
And bring you it's song,
But the breeze slips through my fingers,
It's where it belongs.
I'd paint the sky
With shades of your smile,
But the colors would fade after a while.
I'd weave a tale
Of dreams and delight,
But stories are whispers
Lost in the night.
So I give you my soul,
In whispers, in deeds,
In the quiet moments
Where love truly leads.
For the heart knows no bounds,
No lock, no key,
It's yours, ever after,
For all eternity.
Mar 26, 2025
Mar 26, 2025 at 1:21 AM UTC
I don’t wish to close my eyes
while you sleep.
I don’t wish for time to slip away
while you smile.
I wish to fall asleep by your side
if one day it rains.
I love your white essence,
and also your dark one.
I love when you give yourself in parts,
and also when you give yourself completely.
I love your tenderness,
and also your hardness.
A tiny body,
but a soul of greatness.
A dark past,
but a radiant present.
A deep toughness,
but an incomparable kindness.
A little shy,
but of immeasurable courage.
Mar 12, 2025
Mar 12, 2025 at 6:05 AM UTC
In the soft glow of your sorrow,
where the sun fades, and shadows follow,
I see the tender ache in your verse,
each line a whisper, a silent curse.
“Seems Endless,” you write, and the moon listens,
reflecting the tears that your soul glistens.
In the night’s embrace, you break, you bend,
hoping the darkness would never end.
In Missed Connection, your heart speaks loud,
a love lost, yet covered by a shroud.
“I would trade my life for another day,”
for a smile that once chased your clouds away.
Guilt weighs heavy in your heart’s core,
a stain that no tears can restore.
But your words are rich, like wine aged deep,
capturing the pain that makes us weep.
In The Cost, you share the price of love,
how dreams shatter, pushed and shoved.
Yet in your heart, you still hope, still give,
for in your sorrow, we all learn to live.
You say it’s Too Late to turn back time,
yet in your regret, there’s beauty sublime.
To let go of love, to feel that sting,
a silent price that time cannot bring.
Love’s Altruism, you so plainly say,
is not in promises, but in the day-to-day.
To give with no return, to let love flow,
a lesson in grace that we all should know.
Jess, in every word you breathe,
there’s a truth that we all believe.
Your pain is poetry, your sorrow a song,
in the melody of life where we all belong.
Mar 3, 2025
Mar 3, 2025 at 1:44 AM UTC
No time to carry the weight of their hate,
No space to kindle bitterness within.
Here I stand, wrapped in my wounds.
No words to unravel who I am,
No need to cleanse the stains of their judgment.
Here I linger, lost in my confusion.
No understanding do I seek from souls,
No gaze of sympathy do I crave.
It’s only me and the chaos I kept.
Feb 10, 2025
Feb 10, 2025 at 8:28 PM UTC
Falling asleep in your heart
is like déjà vu.
a place I’ve never been,
but it feels familiar at the same time.
I don’t mean to creep you out,
but I know every nook and cranny.
I didn’t mean to fall asleep,
but of all the places I could have,
I’m glad that I did here.
Your heartbeat,
the pulse that cracks
and settles like a house,
although not mine,
it feels like home,
like somewhere I belong.
I normally don’t fall asleep
in places I haven’t been.
It takes a while to get accustomed,
especially if it’s my first time there.
Although it’s déjà vu,
and it could be one of those things,
I’m already looking forward
to the next time
falling asleep somewhere in you,
somewhere warm,
somewhere I belong
Feb 7, 2025
Feb 7, 2025 at 10:29 PM UTC
i liked a girl from school, she was,
for me, a little too cool; she was -
on top of her game:
something to aim for, she was -
hardly concerned if I had a last name.
i remember those roll calls…
my head leaning against the wall
just to sneak a momentary gaze,
as she'd stand up to answer the teacher's call.
“present, sir.." or "..ma’am”,
that’s all she’d say.
and I knew I’d make it through the day.
i believed someday,
with a voice so sweet,
she’d give me a call,
ask me to meet.
and though that day never came to pass
i remember looking through the broken glass -
of the bus window with a muddy tint.
i could still see her like fine print.
i remember her doe-brown eyes,
her fleshy lips -
the belt clutching her beckoning hips
i’d go to sleep,
drooling like a creep.
in my slumber,
we’d meet in our secret keep.
she spoke in riddles, it would seem:
but i could trace the general theme -
she’d throw me on the bed, and i’d fall -
right out of my wishful dream.
it’s absurd, i know -
i’m not a fool.
yet sometimes,
i wish i were the ‘cool kid’ in school.
and though her memories are all a blur,
i’ve yet to meet a girl like her.
Nov 26, 2024
Nov 26, 2024 at 9:43 AM UTC
In the realm where dreams and passions blend,
A tale of love, unyielding, I intend.
Through valleys low and mountains high,
Love conquers all, as the ages imply.
Against the tides that fiercely roar,
Love stands strong, forevermore.
In battles fierce, where darkness quests,
Love's radiant light outshines the rest.
Through conquests vast, both near and far,
Love's tender touch, a guiding star.
No challenge, no foe, can withstand,
The power of love, forever grand.
In whispered winds and moonlit skies,
Love's gentle gaze, where true strength lies.
Through every trial, every test,
Love conquers all, it stands the best.
So let hearts unite, in sweet embrace,
Defeating trials, with love as the base.
For in the tapestry of life's conquests,
Love reigns supreme, the eternal best.
Jan 29, 2024
Jan 29, 2024 at 4:41 AM UTC