Wishing You The Best

It’s been fourteen days since we last talked,
I know you're not as sad as I am.

You’re out there, living, laughing,
While I’m here, always wishing you the best.

No matter how much it hurts me so deeply,
No matter how my best friend says you're not the one for me,
I can’t deny what I see in you:
A kind heart,
A quiet kindness,
A pure soul.

Yes, sometimes your emotions waver,
But they don’t change how I feel for you.

In the end, I know the truth:
No matter how hard I try,
I was never yours—
Even though you’ve always been theirs.

I wish you the best in everything:
In life, in love,
In whatever brings you happiness.

And if you ever need me,
I’ll still be here.
Perhaps it sounds poetic, even a bit melancholic,
But this is who I am—
Truly and purely.

Comments

safe love

when you find your people, the air feels lighter, your heart rests softer, and every smile is true. you don’t have to measure your words, or hold your laughter in your chest. even in silence, you’re understood, and love grows quietly, endlessly. but love is not a prison. if your wings feel clipped, if your light is dimmed, if you fear to shine, then listen to your heart, and think again.

Saturn

one night, the sky turned gold, and silence felt like gravity, soft, invisible, inescapable. it told me; this too is part of becoming. i used to think home had walls. now I know it’s what lingers, like rings around a quiet planet. so I carry Saturn in my skin, not to escape, but to stay grounded while I learn how to float.

a Different Kind of Poem

Not every poem wears the shape of love, some carry the weight of warmth unspoken, the echo of footsteps down quiet halls, the hush before dinner is served. Watched something last night, "1 Kakak 7 Ponakan", faces I didn’t know felt like mirrors. The way they laughed, argued, stayed, like they had nowhere else to be but with each other. It made me wonder, when was the last time I looked around and saw enough ? There are days this place feels too quiet. But maybe it’s not the silence that’s hollow, maybe I’ve just forgotten how full it really is. They say time spent is the only thing we never truly own. Some spend it on screens, some in rooms filled with laughter. Not everyone gets to choose. And me? I’ve been chasing loud things, forgetting that the softest hours, the ones spent doing nothing with people who’ve always been there, are the rarest kind. We search so far for what’s already sitting across the table.

unlimited words.

Search This Blog