Whispers of a Passing Love

I thought I was strong enough
to face the weight of 2024,
but tonight, sadness knocks again,
like an old friend at my door.

I still don’t understand
how can a boy, known for only five months,
feel like a story written in time,
as if I’ve loved him once before?

I don’t know if this is real,
if love has wrapped me in its arms,
or if it’s just a fleeting ache,
a longing I can’t ignore.

But for now, all I can do
is miss him in silent dreams,
whisper a prayer for both our hearts,
and hope life gives us what we need.

Comments

Not Even Stay

Today, I just finished two seasons of Ginny & Georgia. and I don’t know, sometimes I feel like Ginny, sometimes I feel like Georgia. like a daughter, unseen, misunderstood, or a young mom, fighting silent battles just to protect the ones she loves. but you know what? at least Ginny had Marcus and Hunter. Hunter, who truly loved her. and Marcus, who knew her, stayed with her, saw the wreckage and still chose to stay. there was this scene, Ginny told Marcus she couldn't trust anyone, because Georgia, her own mother, once warned her: "Don’t trust anyone. Especially a man." but Marcus, broken in his own ways, held space for her pain, and chose not to walk away. and that’s the tragedy, isn’t it? I don’t have a Marcus or a Hunter. or even a Georgia. each day I wake up, facing everything alone, learning not to rely on anyone, not because I want to, but because every time I try to show who I really am, every time I open up even just a little, they all leave. Not even stay.

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.

the kind of luck

not again, please.. not again. every time I watch a love story unfold, on screen, in ink, in the glow of moving frames, beyond the moral stitched between scenes, i wonder. how is it that every girl there is a universe of perfection? each one already paired with a man who speaks her storms, who reads her silence, who waits at the edge of her shadows with a lantern in hand? i mean, not every girl has that kind of luck. the kind where kindness is constant, where someone stays, not because she’s flawless, nobody is, but because he chooses her in every imperfect moment, no matter what comes.

unlimited words.

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