Like leaves that fall in different seasons,
Four times I've watched them drift away.
Each one taking pieces of me with them,
Fragments I'll never see again today.

I am the tree that bleeds but grows still,
Stretching branches toward distant stars.
Some might pity these empty spaces,
But I've learned to smile through these scars.

Between temples and minarets I wandered,
A stranger lost between sacred walls.
The morning prayer in different tongues,
Each faith another way to fall.

They say the heart grows wise with breaking,
That pain teaches what to avoid.
But mine burns brighter with each fracture,
Like a flame that fills the void.

In dreams I build our morning after,
Where my solitude dissolves like dawn.
But daylight brings its cold reminders,
Of warmth that's always been withdrawn.

Yet still I grow, though branches trembling,
Roots pushing through the stones of fear.
For love's not measured in its keeping,
But in the tears we choose to bear.

So read these words, beloved strangers,
Who've carved their names into my core.
Know that in these bleeding verses,
Lies beauty you chose to ignore.

For each "almost" and every "maybe,"
For every smile that slipped away,
I remain untamed, still loving,
Though nights seem longer than the day.

In time, perhaps, these words will echo,
In hearts that once beat close to mine.
Not to burden with guilt or sorrow,
But to show how loneliness can shine.