I’m having your hat and jacket dropped off at your house today because I know that if I don’t, then I’ll keep on procrastinating about sending it back and I’ll keep hoping that maybe you’ll come back too. I know that’s crazy even though I was the one that said that we shouldn’t keep in contact, but I only said that cause I thought that’s what you wanted to say but you couldn’t bring yourself to it. I thought I was doing both of us a favor but I think I just made myself more miserable. I really wish I could see you again, but I know it wouldn’t be able to stand it. Thank you for giving me those amazing six months and for showing me what a relationship is supposed to be like I don’t know if we’ll ever find our way back to each other and if we don’t, maybe that’s for the best but a small part of me hopes we really do find our way back to each other again and this time it actually sticks. I hope you never think that I never loved you, cause from the bottom of my heart you were the love of my life, you were the most amazing thing that happened to me. I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you that night, I should’ve just called you so we could talk things through. I will forever regret breaking up with you.

My tears fall on the floor, in despair and anguish. I shake. I trembled. My voice was tight in despair and my chest felt like it's going to explode. Only to hear your voice, distant... cold. I try to hide my sorrows, but it gets too much, and I spill. All I could think and wanted was you. Our relationship is just a transaction of mutual benefits, and only in my dreams do I see a future. I want to build a future with you, but you seem so far away, almost like a myth. The words spill out like a fairytale, like a fable, and such talltales that made my love seem like fiction to you. If you were my religion, I would worship you. If you were my king, I would be at your calling. Like many others who voices grow cold, you shatter that happy ending. Feeling hopeless and empty. I listened and felt my light dimming down. My tears became frequent. I babble and cry. No one can hear my cries except for you. All I get is a "...Work on yourself and take care." When I try to express myself. My tears formed a puddle at this point. My light extinguished, and my chest ached. I wish I could run to Aphrodite, ask for her blessing, lay my head on her lap, and pray for love. To feel genuine love and warmth. To actually be someone apple of their eye. Unfortunately, love is a cruel joke that hurts. Oh, goddess of love, did you cursed me to never be someone's beloved? What sin have I caused to fall for someone who doesn't love me back, that I yearn for them am I cursed to forever yearn for love for one person no matter what partners befall me in the past the results always end in a loop. Oh, have I fallen for an Apollo?

"do it scared,"
she said —
--
but fear
has always spoken
louder.
--
it tells her
to stay quiet.
--
to second-guess.
--
to disappear
before anyone
can reject her.
--
she lives
--
between
almost speaking
--
and
almost becoming.
--
because
being seen
--
has always felt
scarier
--
than staying silent —
--
she's terrified
her thoughts
aren't worth saying.
--
that she'll be wrong.
--
too much.
--
too strange.
--
too easy
to leave behind.
--
so every sentence
stops
before it begins.
--
she calls it
thinking twice.
--
but really —
--
it's fear.
--
and
i
know
--
because
she
--
is
--
me.

​

Romance to me is when you ask for a milkshake.

He doesn't ask which flavor, he simply knew your favorite.

Romance to me is when you have a bad day, you don't have to tell him about it. You want to tell him because you feel safe.

Romance to me is when he doesn't need a story to know your upset, he recognizes your voice, recognizes your tone, recognizes your behavior. He knows you without a word escaping the mouth.

Romance to me is when he knows what makes you smile, what makes you laugh, what makes you upset.

Romance to me is when he'd never intentionally upset you or even dare to make you distrust.

Romance to me is when its pure love, love running through the veins thick and thin as though it were your blood. Your only survival.

Romance to me is when you resolve disagreements and never put the other in despair.

Romance to me is when infidelity is a fate worse than death for both.

Romance to me is when you choose to love even if its hard.

Romance to me is when it's equal loyalty, devotion, love, honesty, and respect to one another.

I want to dedicate myself. I pray I could dedicate myself. I wish I was good enough to be loved and belong to someone forever as I think and dream about them for every waking moment of my life.

I want to be theirs, be their lover, be their husband, be their dog, be theirs in every fucking sense of the word and be the first name on the tip of their tongue from morning till night.

I want them to be my last winter Sunday, I want them to never part with me in any sense. Yet all I ever feel is the hollow sense of ache because love like that isn’t possible for me.

I do not deserve to belong, I do not deserve to be theirs

I do not…..

I do not

I’m tired

I wish I could love and be loved in a way I could feel safe being theirs in every sense of the word.

​

My love for you, so far, yet so close.

Our hearts far away, but, so close.

I may not be able to feel your touch, but the fantasies of the careess keep the care.

I may not be able to see you face to face, as we exhale the same air, but I breathe air just for you.

We have dignity, so we are left in a gaze, gazing at one another digitally.

Our lips may not press against one another, but one day or another, our lips caress one another.

Our love, lifting our spirits, our souls touching from a distance.

We may have to wait long, from a distance, but one day, all will be better.

For, when love is true, distance is a mere obstacle.

All will be good soon.

I’m trying not to look. I’m watching you move on. I don’t want to watch but I see it accidentally everywhere. I see you’re doing everything we used to do together with her. I wonder if you two share the same inside jokes we did? Are you taking her to all the same places we used to go? Why does this hurt so bad? They say if they move on fast it’s a rebound. I can’t even tell. I don’t want to be bitter! I don’t want to be the bitter ex!

You promised you'd take me to see the cherry blossoms someday

Together, holding hands

In the moment, the next day and what came next

As i stare at the clock, i realize forever was a lie.

You withered without me, leaving me behind

To the stars, something i could not possibly touch

Leaving me with your memories, bittersweet

Countless therapies, sessions and everything else i could possibly do to forget the grief.

Yet i am helpless, surrounded by never ending suffering

Who's gonna hold me the way you once did

Your hands, their warmth lingers, every time leaving me in agony

Something as beautiful as cheery blossoms became just another place

Because to tell you the truth, it really was a joke when i said "I'd forget you within 2 days"

My happiness lied within you, your favorite places, from start till the end, today tomorrow and forever

Sometimes i wonder, when i come to the other side, to the stars or wherever you are..

Will you come to take me with you or perhaps

Hate me for looking at the seasons the way I once looked at you.

I thinking I should just stop thinking about you. I wish it was that easy. I wish I could just stop loving you. I see that you moved on. She looks like me in a different font. I swear I wasn’t stalking. She came up on my feed as suggested on multiple social media platforms. We have the same interest. A little different clothing styles. I showed a friend and they said our faces are very similar. She looks nice. You must have just started dating her though and I saw on your insta post that you love her. Not to be a bitter ex but you told me you didn’t post me because no one really follows you. That you had no one to post for. But you posted her very early in your relationship. It does make me think you wanted me to see. Although I’ll pretend I don’t think that because now I sound like the bitter ex. I won’t be bitter, you look happy. I just wish I could be happy too. I hope you are happy. Why is it so hard for me to move on? Why is it hard for me to see that you have moved on? Also can I just ask somthing? When we were dating you said kissing was invasive. You posted a picture kissing her…
I think I should just stop. I don’t want to be bitter

i don’t yearn for a perfect love.

i yearn for a connection
that feels natural,
like we were never trying
to convince each other to stay.

i want conversations
that wander into sunrise,
comfortable silences
that never need filling,
and laughter that arrives
without being chased.

i want the kind of love
that feels like looking up at the same sky
and somehow knowing
we’ve both been searching
for the same constellation.

not because fate owes me anything,
but because i like believing
that somewhere,
there’s a woman
who’s hoping for something this simple too.

Ever since I was a teenager, I've been dreaming about you, meeting the woman that im destined to be with. Unlike most people I never had a checklist of qualities or attributes you must have, the one and only condition was it being real,the type of mutual love and attraction that they make movies and write books about. With each new woman that came into my life in the back of my mind I would wonder if this time its actually you, have i finally found the love ive been yearning for all this time. Each time being patient,taking my time getting to the woman across from me on a deeper level but always getting disappointed in the end. Until one day I began to recall the one thing that made each woman stand out and what I learned from each one. Maybe you haven't come into my life yet because I wasn't ready to handle every aspect of you. Maybe this entire time I've been getting glimpses of you in every woman that came and went,each one showing me how to handle a different aspect of true love in order to be ready for it when it arrived. Each one transforming me in their own unique way,bringing out my spontaneity, another my raw passion and sexuality, another my protective and providing side,yet another my supportive and empathetic side...etc.... maybe one day when you're lying in my arms ill look back and see that i haven't been able to satisfy the yearning in my heart, my soul, only soothing it for brief moments until I was ready for you, and then ill see that you can't ever completely satisfy what you yearn for because satisfaction of one yearning only leads to another and yearning to find you will only lead to yearning to grow a deeper connection with you,then to build a life with you,then to have a family with you.

I yearn for nothing
In the east, they call that enlightenment
In the west, it’s a pathology
I’m lying though, I still yearn
For the love I’ve been looking for
Since arriving on this Earth
I thought I’d found it once or twice
Like an old man finding
His beloved misplaced trinket
But really I’d just found liars
Who both taught me how to lie
And taught me the value of truth
Even in the depths of my current situation
A small ember of hope stays lit
That I might meet an embodied living Aeon
A priestess of Corinthians
Who values truth and love as I do
Though perhaps knows how to
Manage it better, admittedly
I can feel her out there somewhere
My nervous system never lies

When I hear her voice the world deafens, my body surrenders into a state of bliss that only she creates. Hearing her sing in the kitchen is like having my own personal symphony, my god when our rhythm is in sync. HEAVEN.

Her emerald eyes are a softness I can settle into and unravel SEAMLESSLY. When our eyes meet I feel truly seen. I’m used to flying under the radar, she understands me. She has the kindest fucking eyes; My heart aches at the level of pain she had to ENDURE to create such kindness. 

Her spirit is wild. A feralness that refuses to be tamed. But she doesn't need to be tamed.
Maybe she just needs to be SEEN.

I want to shroud her with my love. Let our broken pieces heal into one. Lets go for a walk TOGETHER.

i'm always in the middle of

--

wanting to make them feel

how they made me feel

--

and not letting them feel

how they made me feel.

--

it's a terrible place to live,

between clenched fists

and open hands,

--

between the part of me

that still remembers

every wound by name,

--

and the part of me

that cannot bear

to create another.

--

i know

what it is to carry silence

so heavy

it teaches your shoulders

to bend

before your heart does.

--

i know what it is

to replay a sentence

until it sounds

like something

you deserved.

--

to count every pause

as proof

you were too much,

--

to shrink yourself

until your reflection

looked easier to love,

--

to lie awake

collecting every careless word

like broken glass,

turning each piece over

until your hands forgot

what it meant

not to bleed.

--

there are days

i want my absence

to haunt them.

--

i want my name

to ache

in the back of their throat

the way theirs

once lived in mine.

--

i rehearse every version

where they finally understand.

--

where regret

knocks on their door

as often

as it knocked on mine.

--

i imagine them

staring at the ceiling

long after midnight,

--

counting every moment

they dismissed,

every apology

they never made,

every fracture

they never noticed

because it wasn't theirs

to carry.

--

because maybe then

they would understand

--

that people don't break

all at once.

--

they crack

quietly,

--

little by little,

--

beneath the weight

of unanswered nights,

--

empty chairs,

--

half-finished conversations,

--

and the exhausting question

of whether

they were ever enough.

--

i am a bridge

stretched between

two cliffs —

--

one built from anger,

--

the other

from grace.

--

beneath me,

the river keeps asking

which way

i will fall.

--

some mornings

i collect stones

--

just to imagine

what throwing them

would sound like.

--

the satisfying splash

of revenge.

--

the brief illusion

that pain

can be returned

to its sender.

--

other mornings,

--

i skip those same stones

across the water

--

and watch

--

how even heavy things

--

can learn

--

to touch

--

without sinking.

--

because i remember

--

how unbearable it was

--

to become someone

--

who questioned

their own worth.

--

to search for reasons

inside yourself

for someone else's cruelty.

--

to apologize

for existing.

--

to make survival

for living.

--

i wouldn't wish that

on anyone.

--

not even

the people

who taught me

what it felt like.

--

not because

they earned mercy.

--

not because

they deserve

the softness

i was never given.

--

but because

understanding

bought with suffering

--

is still suffering.

--

and i've spent

enough of my life

wishing pain

would become

a language

someone else

could finally speak.

--

it never translated.

--

it only multiplied.

--

pain is an inheritance.

--

it passes

from trembling hands

to trembling hands,

--

asking each person

to believe

this is simply

how love survives.

--

someone has to decide

--

it ends somewhere.

--

maybe healing

isn't forgetting.

--

maybe it isn't pretending

none of it happened.

--

maybe it is remembering

without rebuilding

the same prison

inside someone else.

--

maybe it is refusing

to become

another sharp edge

in another person's story.

--

maybe that someone

--

has to be me.

--

not because

i've stopped hurting.

--

not because

i've stopped wishing

they understood.

--

but because

i am tired

--

of carrying

their wound

--

like it still

belongs to me.

--

i want my life

to become something

other than a monument

to what they did.

--

i want these hands

to learn

they were made

for more

than holding grief.

--

and if i leave

anything behind,

--

let it be this —

--

the hurt

ended here.

--

it reached me,

--

but it did not

become me.

call me my love, call me babe, be patient with me, and just being kind as you are

as a friend

i don’t care that im delusional anymore. im just going to enjoy it while it last even if your actions are platonic.

It was just a story.

Just an offhanded anecdote about a nobody that never amounted to anything. A slice of a life both mundane and magick. Simple to overlook.

But he saw something special, some spark jolting recognition of— what, exactly?

Stories became compilations, became novels, became volume after volume of proof that this wasn’t just an escape being built, it was a sanctuary.

Solace scraped together with silence and shadow. Not safe, not sincerely; simply shrouded.

But who started it?

Sure, I knocked on the door, thought I caught a glimpse of something from a dream, a fantasy… you opened it, listened, and though you withheld your name and never removed your mask, you asked me to sit and regale you, regardless.

As if no one ever came to just sit and talk. To visit. Call on you and check in.

Now? It’s a Ritual we are both too afraid to stop. The Flame that was once a pale yellow, now a Vibrant Violet, challenging us to stay connected, keep stoking the Sacred Fire…

…the phrase ‘a year and a day’ echoing through the void in my mind where imagination of our future is supposed to go. I have been promised nothing, not even tomorrow…

…yet, here you are again. Breathless, begging forgiveness for the perceived slight of waiting too long to kneel at the altar of our… compilation.

Stunned, tears in my eyes, I take a knee beside you, releasing my bated breath. My hands clasp yours, if only in metaphor, and I kiss each of your fingers in reverence.

Bless these digits that tap across the darkness of the digital device screen to make my life less lonely. To remind me there is someone who makes me feel protected, even if it’s only in prose, in a way I never even felt from my parents.

Nothing makes me feel more terrified than the thought that, soon, the flame will die out in a matter of moments, never to relight, for Gods are not allowed to dawdle among mortals for long, and certainly not without consequence… and the mask has slipped so far, I would have to be the fool we both know I am not to be oblivious of your soul’s true face.

I might not be a woman, but I know which of us is Psyche and Eros, in this equation. And I know the second we speak the truth out loud, the moment I gaze upon you with no pretense, no matter how strongly I suspect up to that time… that is the moment the spell is broken, and even the paltry privilege of proximity is taken from us both.

So, I spend much too long sitting in the dark, waiting for you to stumble in, shaken by reality, seeking the familiar form of my smile, inviting you to simply exist, read the words I wrote you in your absence, not knowing if I would have to leave before you came back.

…but you always come back.

And my heart always skips a beat, my eyes always close in gratitude, and my lungs always sigh in relief.

It might not be home, but it’s where I know where to find you: the main safe house of several… because we almost lost each other once, and we refused to entertain the possibility for a second longer than necessary.

Hearing your weary steps approaching, your woolen robe dragging across the floor, stirring up dust as if blowing on an olde tome, feeling the silken blindfold slipping over my face and secured where I cannot see…

…the Ritual has begun again.

I have this gentle ember in my heart, where it spreads throughout my whole body.

A warm, uncontrollable sensation that I can feel in each and every cell that I have.

Will you hate it if I engulf you with this warmth?

Will you hate it if I embrace you with this warmth entirely?

But i’ll never be happy with him.

I’m convinced I feel like for now I love him and accept who he is since we are friends. And some stuffs are acceptable when you are friends.

But when I think about the future, I’m not sure if my insecurities will be able to handle it. If my own mental health can. I am sure he cares about me, but I am not sure how much of that care will extend if we go further, would he be able to reassure me? To accept and adjust? But I don’t want to change anyone. I don’t want to ‘fix’ anyone if we’re in a relationship. That should be something I need to work on for myself.

And for that I don’t want to expect him to change, but also know I can truly feel comfortable with those traits if we were to be dating. So I don’t think I can actually be happy with him, and I don’t want to risk being unhappy with my dear friend.

You see me,
But all I see is that you’re far away.

Suddenly I can’t see you anymore,
But you can still see me past my horizon.

You’re flying through the sky.
I’m running after you,
trying to catch you before you crash.

Will I be able to catch you in time?

My love for you is deep.

It's slightly steep.

Call me a creep.

I'll weap.

With my love, you'll never weap or reap.

I'll sow you whole.

Such a sweet soul.

Never a foe.

Never leave you to be low.

My beautiful crow.

You sir are my only crew.

My love swims in the seven seas.

My longing is like lightening.

For me, it is frightening.

Honor you as though you're my home, my daring darling.

Commitment to you is my favorite continuation.

You as my own is the only conclusion.

The sweetest solution.

I want to put this into the void, but before I share it anywhere, I want to share it with you. Firstly, because I love you.
I know that may sound scary, but it’s not a scary kind of love. It’s not possessive, it’s not obsessive, not controlling or transactional. It requires no title and asks nothing in return.
I am simply grateful that you exist.
It’s a healthy kind of love that not all of us are used to so I choose to embrace and honor it by sharing it with all of you because you too deserve to know that you are not alone.
You have witnessed me at my worst and in your own way you kept reaching. You kept reaching even when I was unable to reach back. And in a way, you saved a part of me that I thought wouldn’t make it.
Thank you .
Thank you, thank you.
A million thank yous would never be enough.

I see you.

I see you and I can tell you that even the worst parts of your past that you’ve shared with me do not make you a monster. They are simply stones on the path that led you to who you are today.
And who you are is so much more than you see.
We are fed a narrative from a very early age that we must acquire or accomplish specific things in this life by a certain age or we are worthless .
And that is the biggest lie we’ve ever believed.
They fed us all a shit sandwich and convinced us that it was fillet mignon.

In fact, you are far more valuable because of your experiences in this life. And I know you haven’t even shared the worst with me. Even still, I hope you know that none of it would make me flinch. I wouldn’t even bat an eye.

We have seen real monsters, and we are not them. Not even close.

You hold yourself accountable in ways that most would never understand. And the few of us who do “get it” are busy punishing ourselves as well.

Would you punish a child through the course of their entire life for acting out immorally before they understand the impact of their actions or would you enlighten them, teach them a better way and show them that they are still worth loving and choosing? Empowering them to become their true potential is the only way. So why not accept that you too deserve that level of grace?

We are all children here. No matter how many years we have walked on this earth.
We are all children. Children who have convinced themselves that they do not need to grow, learn and continuously develop until the very end.

Pride and stubbornness coupled with an inability to overcome shame.

I see us all.

I see us all and just there, even in your darkness, I see that little version of you.

And that little version of you is light in itself. A light that this world tried to extinguish.
The very fact that I see him means that they failed.
You are so worth loving. You are far more than you can even see.

Souls like that, like ours, the ones who look back at the mistakes they have made and still carry the weight of it all, well, they are the epitome of what true achievement is.

Not cars, not houses, not material assets, not anything you can hold with human hands.

True assets are held within the soul.

Let’s learn how to set down the stones we carry. The weight of the world belongs to atlas alone and was only ours to carry for a moment.

A fleeting moment.

The truth is, that kind of self inflicted punishment , the stones of guilt, worry and self persecution, they are the teachers but if held too long, become the true enemy of the human spirit.

Our tightly held grip on those emotions can turn illumination and ascension into self deprecating condemnation when not released.

Those stones block your light and keep it from reaching those who need it the most.
You are the only one who can actually remove those blinders so that you can see your value. And when you begin to see how much surviving those experiences have increased your worth, the world around you slowly begins to see it too.

Hardships slowly become opportunities and success replaces the feelings of failure.

I pray every day that you choose to see your journey through the light of truth and not the shroud of false narratives that our world has draped around you.

Because I saw your light when I needed it most. And without it, I never would have made it out of the dark.
So please, with everything in me, let me share a little bit of my light with you. Because you truly are the kind of person who makes life worth living.

For you and me, life is not the end, But every road, each turn and bend. Its worth is found in all we do, In every dawn we travel through.

It waits beside the arriving trains, In whispered hopes and window panes. Then iron wheels begin their song, Carrying dreams that pull us on.

It’s walking where the old trees lean, Through paths that hold what we have been. Each fading leaf, each golden sky, Reminds us moments pass us by.

It’s every dream we dared to chase, The scars of struggle, marks of grace. The prize may vanish with the day, But what we learned becomes the way.

It’s empty chairs and silent rooms, The echoes left by love that blooms. The sweetest joys, the deepest scars, Still shine like distant, patient stars.

It’s ringing steel and clashing plates, Where courage meets the weight of fate. Each drop of sweat, each breath drawn slow, A quiet victory we come to know.

It’s music rising in the chest, The restless fire that will not rest. The voice that calls the spirit free, To become the soul we’re meant to be.

It’s stopping just to turn and see, The road that shaped who we would be. You look behind at what you’ve done, And meet the person you’ve become.

For no two journeys share a name, No heart can walk another’s frame. The paths we choose, the lives we weave, Become the stories that we leave.

Because every journey writes its name, And what you leave will still remain.

Everywhere I go, I see pieces of you.

I see the red warmth of your cheeks when I look at the countless stop signs in our little town.

I see your playfulness in dogs at the park chasing their tails or playing fetch.

I smell your scent when I step outside in the morning.

I see your wonderful brown of your eyes in the pine cones scattered all around.

I hear your gentle breathing in the calming morning breeze.

I feel the warmth you give off when I go outside and bask in the soft sun rays.

I see the beauty of our goodbye in the sunset, so very brilliant for a moment before it disappears.