Our eyes were constellations,
scattering questions
that language could never catch,
until laughter arrived
an ancient river
finding its long-forgotten sky.

Your presence was rainfall
after centuries of thirst,
a melody wandering home
to an instrument
that had dreamed of sound
in silence.

Absence was not a thief,
but a sculptor
its chisel filled the fractures
with molten gold,
kintsugi of the soul,
where brokenness bloomed into light.

Three years were not lost,
but spun into threads of becoming;
so when we met again,
it was not a return,
but a rebirth
a dawn that had been waiting
behind the horizon.

And in that eternal heartbeat,
I understood
time is powerless
against roots that grow
in the hidden gardens of love.

Some memories hurt, like rain on the skin,
Soaking me deep, seeping within.
Some strike like lightning, fierce and loud,
Leaving behind scars I carry proud.

But not all scars are born from pain—
Some come from laughter, sunshine, rain.
A smile once shared, a hand held tight,
Leaves marks just as real, though soft and light.

We often remember the wounds that sting,
But joy leaves fingerprints on everything.
Like grip marks etched from love’s embrace,
They stay through time, they hold their place.

So when the sorrow calls your name,
Look closer—joy walks just the same.
To live is to feel—both rise and fall,
Each moment matters, big or small.

A flat line means silence, an end to the fight,
But life lives in motion—in dark and in light.
So I’ll treasure the scars, both gentle and deep,
For they tell the story I’m destined to keep.

If you dream of a car lined in gold,
let it be a chariot for your heart —
not a trumpet for strangers' eyes.
Let the engine hum in silence,
as you drive through moments that matter.

Park it where laughter lives,
where your child clutches your hand,
where your mother rests her tired bones
and smiles, not at the car, but at you.

Don’t raise your children to crave mirrors —
raise them to be flames.
To build their own wheels of purpose,
to carry light, not noise.

Status is a mirage —
glimmering in heat, vanishing at dusk.
But kindness?
Kindness leaves tire marks on time.

Let your legacy be not the car you drove,
but the lives you moved,
the roads you built
for those still walking barefoot.

Your skin drinks moonlight—
my breath fans the quiet flames,
we burn, bound by stars.

I feel your light as my own, together we ignite.


Still waters awake
when your shadow moves with grace—
my silence sings back.

I dance in your calm, your presence stirs my soul.


I am born for you—
shaped from light your heart once called,
the stars hold their breath.

You are my dream made real, a prayer answered in light.


Let me be the wind
that fans your glowing ember—
your longing is mine.

I breathe life into your fire, our desires entwined.


Dust turns to gold here—
with each touch, time melts away,
heaven lies in us.

In your hands, even earth becomes sacred and divine.

What if you changed, like the seasons I feared?
What if love passed quicker, like weather, unclear?
What if you swayed toward a better scent in the air—
And left behind my sand art, made for you with care?

My doubts were carved by storms of the past,
Etched deep by hands that never did last.
Were you like them, too? A passing face?
But you weren’t.
Why?

Do you love me that much?

You didn’t change.
You lit your moonlight on me in the blaze of June,
Made my days bright like a midday tune.
You dusted trust across the snowfall's hush—
And somehow, that cold began to blush.

In spring, we planted memories with bare, open hands,
Shed old scars like the tide letting go of broken shells on the sand.
You whispered:
"You're the rarest scent—I breathe you in,"
"Not just a creation, you’re my one true skin."
"You’re not just art—you’re the only art I ever knew,"
"Ours was no accident—ocean currents drew me to you."

You are the wind that circles me; unseen, yet deeply felt.
I marvel at your dance, like leaves caught in your rhythm.
You were the first ripple on my still waters,
a fleeting droplet that stirred my quiet sadness into something like joy.

You were the distant star I traced with wonder,
your brilliance making my gaze flinch,
yet I kept looking, drawn by a silent hope.

You are the lone pearl gleaming in an endless ocean,
the only one I ever wished to hold.
You are the forest where I long to rest,
your canopy my refuge.

The sunlight that filters through your branches
those are the moments that touch me,
warm and golden, brief yet eternal.

Flesh or fruit—what's your feast?
The forest doesn't ask, the jungle doesn’t preach.
It kills. It eats. It sleeps.
No courtroom. No guilt. No peace.

We **** too.
But with suits.
With fear.
With scars.

Some **** to live. Some live to ****.
A lion tears flesh.
We sign deals.
Which one's worse?

They prey. Not ******.
We ******. Then pray.

Is that justice...
Or just instinct in disguise?

Nature doesn’t ask why.
It simply survives.
But us?
We decorate our hunger…
…and call it power.

My branches cradle stars for you.
My leaves spill secrets into the wind for you.
My eyes hold galaxies in bloom for you.
My sea sighs into shorelines, aching for you.
My bird spins through storms for you.
My love stretches like dawn ; endless, for you.

The morning hums a gentle tune,
dew still clings where night was strewn.
A sparrow writes across the air,
its wings a brush, its song a prayer.

The sun climbs slow, with golden hands,
unfolding light across the lands.
Shadows shrink, yet softly stay,
teaching night must give to day.

We rise, we fall, like tides at sea,
yet every dawn rewrites the key
a chance to sing, to dream, to try,
beneath this vast forgiving sky.

It hurts so bad, I cannot breathe—
A storm within, I cannot leave.

My iron heart, once forged so strong,
Now brittle, cracking, something wrong.

What is missing? What have I lost?
Why does the past return, like frost?
The pain—it lingers, cloaked in rain,
Thunder murmurs all my pain.

Afraid to take one step ahead,
The ladder shakes, my soul has bled.
My legs, they tremble—weak, too small,
I know—I know—I’m bound to fall.

The air smells old—like ghosts, like time,
A bitter taste, a steep decline.
Why does the past still call my name?
Why must I burn inside this flame?

But even storms must break, must die,
And even pain runs out of sky.

So though I shake, though I despair,
I’ll climb—I’ll climb—through fractured air.

Your hair’s cropped, bare enough
for me to memorize the shape of you—
my hands don’t wander; they return.

With your glasses, you glimpse the world.
Without them, you’re mine—
the blur becomes me,
and I become everything you see.

The bruise I left was no accident—
desire marked you because words couldn’t.
It bloomed like a secret only we could touch,
a dark petal over your skin

The ocean is jealous;
it will never know the depth I’ve fallen into you.
I’ve fallen into you so deep,
even gravity would beg for mercy.

You’re not a habit—
you’re a need.
I vape your scent like it's the last breath I'll take,
not to live, but to burn.

We met in the mist,
but that was no coincidence.
I called for you before I even knew your name.

And now,
I don’t just love you—
I ache to keep you,
every second,
in every breath,
beneath every bruise.

She moves, and the air bends toward her
a secret gravity, invisible yet undeniable.
Her hum drifts like a hymn carved into the sky,
each note a cathedral where my heart kneels.

She is a hummingbird in human form,
small, radiant, fleeting
yet every beat of her wings
creates a storm inside me.

She is my North Star, constant and burning,
guiding me through the wilderness of myself.
She is a droplet of water touched by sunlight,
splintering into rainbows too pure to hold.

I see her as heaven draped in mortal skin,
and every glance is a pilgrimage,
every second a surrender.

When she weeps,
the world inside my chest collapses heavier
than the ruin of my own sorrows.
When she is silent,
I sit with her in the hush,
where quiet itself becomes a healer.

Yes
I fear losing her as fiercely
as a mother clings to her child.
And I love her with a devotion
that rivals that same holy bond.
It may not be motherly love,
but its weight, its eternity
is just the same.

Some dreams don’t fade when you wake, they bloom quietly in your heart, turning blush into happiness every time the universe reminds you of them.

I built a lantern from my breath,
fed it with hours,
with hands blistered from holding light too long.
It burned, faithful,
casting shadows that bent always toward you.

I planted gardens in a drought,
poured rivers into soil
that never once turned its face to the sky.
Still, the seeds broke in me,
roots winding around the silence of your name.

I spoke to the mountain
ten times, a hundred
each word climbing until it fell,
tired,
into valleys where no answer stirred.

And yet
my heart refuses to retreat.
It is a pilgrim without map or mercy,
kneeling before closed gates,
convinced that one day
a door will breathe open.

The ache is its own country,
and I am its last citizen
unwilling to abandon
the ruins I tended
as if they were a cathedral.