Hello, there!

  Damn it, kid. Damn it!!! I called out into the air again, like a fool throwing pebbles into the sea, waiting for some kind of ripple to reach me. It’s ridiculous, really, the way I try to fold him into the corners of my mind, like he’s some half-finished poem I can’t leave alone. He doesn’t know it, but he’s here. Lingering in the quiet spaces of my thoughts, a stubborn thread of smoke that refuses to clear. And maybe I’m just drunk on the idea of him watching, standing at some distant edge, like a stray star in a sky I don’t understand. It’s not love—not even close. It’s not even a crush, but something itchier, like a splinter under the skin. He’s a question that doesn’t need answering, a riddle I didn’t ask for but can’t help trying to solve. Maybe it’s because he doesn’t belong in my world, not really. He’s so bloody different, somewhat playful and careless in that “all neon confidence and cheap dopamine” kinda way, you know? I’m quiet, sharper around the edges, but somehow he...

In stillness, I dissolve to him, A flame that calls me from within. I am his now, and he is mine, No longer seeking, lost in time. He whispers softly in my ear, A voice that only I can hear. Not thunder loud, but gentle, sweet, His presence is where the silence meets. I was a river, wild and free, Seeking shores I could not see. But in his gaze, I found my home, The river and the ocean, one alone. I am nothing, yet I am all, Like endless skies and shadows' call. In surrender, I find my place, Not lost, but held in his embrace. He is the root, and I the tree, A dance of shadows, light, and sea. In losing myself, I’ve learned to be, The quiet rhythm of the divine decree. Now my heart beats only his name, No more running, no more shame. In every breath, in every sigh, I am his, and he is nigh.  That, which is not. :) Until next time, Love always, S

There’s a moment between dreaming and waking when the world softens—kind of like butter left too long on the counter. That’s where I found myself, staring at the ceiling fan, counting its revolutions like it held some cosmic secret. “Should I text you?” I asked into the void of my mind. Somewhere, I was sure you heard it. You always did. “Why are you like this?” your voice echoed back, amused and familiar. I pictured you in some cozy café, lazily stirring coffee that didn’t need stirring. “It’s a gift,” I replied silently. We’d always had this strange way of talking without speaking—like our thoughts were on the same invisible string. It made everything harder and easier all at once. Real conversations had rules, timing, consequences. This? This was our glitch in the matrix where things could stay almost perfect. “I wish we could go grocery shopping together,” I thought suddenly, standing in the middle of the cereal aisle surrounded by strangers making life-altering decisions ...