There was a time when my life felt like one long argument—with myself, with people who left, with people who stayed but didn’t show up the way I wanted them to. Every disappointment turned into a courtroom where I was both the prosecutor and the accused. Blame had a strange comfort. It gave shape to my confusion, like holding a cracked mirror and calling it proof. I could stay angry instead of admitting I felt small. I could rewrite stories where I tried the hardest, and somehow that made losing feel noble. Blame is a cracked mirror—it …
The Rare Currency
Most people listen like they’re waiting in line,Nodding on cue, missing the spine.Noise dressed as talk, polished but hollow,Egos so loud they drown what they swallow. But then—once in a while—a voice lands clean,Cuts through the fluff, sharp, unseen.Not performance, not polish, no need to impress,Just presence that lingers, saying far more with less. Protect that gold, it doesn’t come cheap,One true exchange outvalues a heap.Talk is for many, connection for few—Spend it like treasure, on those who see you. …
The Taste of Real Words
The mug was warm, but the coffee was cold,we traded safe stories already old.Weather and traffic, the headlines, the queue—a thousand words spoken, but nothing felt true. Two nights before, on your rain-slicked porch,tea steam rising like a slow-lit torch,you leaned back easy, rain damp in your hair,and said, “I don’t like who I am at work, I swear.” The night went still—like it held its breath,your words cut clean, like a truth or a death.No filters, no frosting, no lines to rehearse—just honesty raw, both blessing and curse. We spoke …
When You Hear Me
Most speak to fill the air,but you… you leave the silence there.You let my words find their own ground,and in your eyes, I feel unbound. It’s not the phrases that we trade,but how the walls between us fade.No need for masks, no need for show,your listening tells me you already know. In a world that shouts to be believed,you hear the truths I’ve never grieved.And in that space, so calm, so wide,I find my voice. I find my guide. …
It Doesn’t Show Off. It Stays.
The kind that lasts doesn’t need a stage.It doesn’t dress up to prove its worth.It remembers how you take your tea.It gets the lights right before bed. It doesn’t try to win you back with noise.It never left. You won’t find it in anniversary posts.But you’ll feel it when someone listens without interrupting.When they ask if you’ve eaten.When they offer the last piece of chocolate and mean it. It’s not bored by your silence.It shares the silence with you.It doesn’t rehearse lines.It pays attention. It won’t sweep you off your …
will you know it’s me?
Inheritance
I folded my dreams into cornerssharp enough to cut mejust so you’d have roomto unfold yours. I told myselflove is sacrifice.That shrinking is a kind of gift.That silence means strength.That maybe you'd noticethe ache in my absence. But you didn’t.You walked lighter,because I carried what you wouldn’t. I stopped asking.Stopped wanting.Stopped dreaming.I peeled my needs down to the bone—air, sleep,a hand on my back,a voice that says I see you. Even thatwas too much. You didn’t just forget me.You erased me.Made me ghost myself.I …
Little Sparks, Big Stories
I wake to a whisper—a single thought, small as a sigh,trembling like steam from my coffee cup. In that quiet blink of a morning,I see a cracked mug and hear its secret:even broken things can hold magic. Each tiny sparkgrows, transforming a plain dayinto a hidden adventure waiting to be told. I remember how one fleeting moment—a gentle laugh at my own reflection—turned the ordinary into a bold promise. Every thought is a seed,nurtured by a heart that listens,ready to blossom into a story uniquely mine. So I hold onto these …