I shed the shell I wore so long, its edges frayed, its corners wrong. Each layer peeled, a whispered cry,
A part of me I could not tie.
The mirror shows a hollow trace, a stranger’s eyes, a vanished face.
The skin that held my shame and fear lies crumpled now, nowhere near.
I touched the folds, the faded lines,
Continue reading →The sky unfolded, pale and wide,
A breathless hush where light should bide.
No golden rays to touch the land, just shadows stretching, hand in hand.
The world awoke in muted gray, the birds unsure if they should play. Each heartbeat thudded in the chill, and morning whispered, soft and still. I walked alone through streets undone, each step a mirror of the sunless dawn.
The wind carried what could not speak, a hollow ache too faint, too bleak.
Continue reading →Life breaks quietly, like glass dropped on a cold floor, shards catching the light and reflecting pieces of everything we
Once were.
Scattered glass does not forgive the fall;
It only mirrors the fragments of what remains, sharp and unyielding,
Forcing you to navigate the floor carefully, step by step.
Each shard holds a story,
A memory cut into edges too jagged to touch, yet beautiful enough to hold your gaze.
You reach for them, hoping to piece them together, but the reflections never align,
And the image you wanted is always just beyond your fingers.
Continue reading →Some eyes hold stars not meant to be counted, constellations moving silently behind the curve of a glance.
Galaxy eyes do not simply see;
They pull the world into orbit, tracing its edges and secrets as if memorized long before the first light.
To look into them is to feel both infinite and infinitesimal, caught between wonder and something older than understanding.
Galaxy eyes carry histories they do not speak, planets of thought colliding in quiet brilliance, nebulae of memory swirling behind the surface.
Continue reading →Some houses are built of brick and stone, but this one was built of fire. Each wall flickered with memory, each hallway breathed smoke and ash, and the air itself carried the echo of what once was.
To enter was to feel both warmth and destruction, to know that what sustains can also consume, and that beauty often hides its danger.
Continue reading →There is a quiet place where everybody who gave up goes, though it has no doors and no name.
It lives between the sigh of a final attempt and the silence that follows. You won’t hear applause there, only the sound of hearts folding in on themselves, like paper boats sinking in a river they never chose to sail.
Continue reading →Loneliness is not only the absence of company; it is the space between moments where the heart waits for what will never come.
Every bit of lonely lingers like dust in sunlight, small, almost invisible, yet impossible to ignore. It settles on your thoughts, your words, your hands, reminding you that even when surrounded, you can still be entirely alone.
Continue reading →Some minds are filled with rivers, some with silence, and some with words that do not rest. A mind of words carries its own gravity, folding thoughts into themselves until they become both a refuge and a prison.
Each word is a spark, a seed, a shadow of what the speaker cannot fully hold, yet refuses to release.
Continue reading →Some vows are spoken in temples, some beneath the sky, and some in silence where no witness stands.
A timeless vow is not carved in stone or written in ink – it is carried in the heart, beating with every pulse, refusing to fade even when the mouth forgets the words. It binds not by law, but by devotion, not by force, but by choice.
Continue reading →The phrase lingers like a warning, yet it is also a seed of defiance. To say “never” is to close a door before life has walked down the hall. But life, untamed and merciless, has a way of proving us wrong – again and again. What we vow will not happen arrives uninvited; what we swear to avoid becomes the very path we must walk.
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