He is the whisperer breaking the silence between my thoughts.
He is the ink that colors the page I write.
He is the feeling behind every line I craft.
He is the pulse in my rhyme scheme.
He is the imagery that dances in my mind.
He is more than just words—he is poetry.

He’s more than just words, he is poetry

He tries to define her poetry
but she’s more than just words.
He tries to analyze her through psychology,
but no theory can hold her.

He studies her like an ancient text,
each symbol more confusing than the last.
She’s a Rubik’s cube
just when he thinks he’s solved her, she shifts to
unsolvable.
And it gives him a headache.

A mystery, yet captivating
and that’s what makes her even more alluring.

She is the brown-eyed girl
who lives in the spaces between his thoughts.

I am often criticized by those who think they know better. They say I will never get anywhere. That I am not smart enough, not bright enough.

They tear apart my writing.
Tell me if I work harder, maybe I’ll be almost good enough.

But I know better.
There is a fire in me that speaks with certainty: I am a great writer.

They pick apart my face, my skin, my presence.
They say I’m not beautiful. That I’m flawed.
That I must fix myself, shrink myself, polish myself just to be seen.

But I was born radiant.
I am beauty in its rawest, most powerful form.

They scrutinize my body.
Say I should mold myself into their ideal—if I just starve, strain, sweat enough.

But I already embody power.
My weight is not a flaw. It is mine. It is perfect.

They say I don’t know how to love.
That I must earn the right to be loved in return.

But I do know love.
It pulses through every word I speak, every gesture I offer.
My love is real. Fierce. Honest. Whole.

They try to break me with their words.
To silence me. Shame me. Diminish me.

But still—I rise.

They look at me and see a list of flaws.
But I am a force. A woman with endless depth and unstoppable strength.

I walk with my head high.
I carry the weight of this world—and still, I rise

Her soul is a garden, alive with grace,

Colors blooming, a radiant embrace.
Wherever she walks, warmth follows close,

Illuminating hearts with gentle light.

Her words are seeds in the soil of despair,

Sprouting hope in spaces left bare.
She breathes life into the lost and gray,
Nurturing dreams that had slipped away.

Her soul speaks softly, tender and true,
A quiet current flowing through you.
From her depths, she plants the seed,
Life springs forth for those in need.

Papers flutter through the air, caught in a silent dance.
A melody hums, sweet and low, where love and silence meet.
The wind whispers secrets, all that's left unsaid.
Each line she writes is for him, his words—
Adding color, giving meaning to her world.

Her dreams of him spill onto ink-stained pages,
Truth unfolding as the papers fall.
A poet's heart, bound to the man she calls her forever home.

She is hard to read—
A book with weathered pages,
Not flawed, but a mystery,
Like the deep volumes of literature and philosophy.

An enlightened thinker,
Shrouded in secrets yet to be uncovered.
She is a puzzle,
Nearly whole,
But with one piece forever absent.

Step into her mind,
And all corners blur into one.
She’ll leave you adrift—
Trapped in an endless maze,
Where every path loops back
To the place you first began.

Who is she?
Ah, that’s me.

Literature is an art and so are you.

Through trials and storms, love remains intact
No distance can separate us when love is pure
Time may pass, but love continues to grow
Eyes hold a blaze,
a fire of love that never dies
No power on Earth
can break the bond of love between you and me

An empty canvas left intentionally blank shows the greatest emotion

In a room full of portraits. You are the most beautiful artwork I have ever seen.

I am both the darkness and the light. I cannot pick a side. It is what completes me. I am inseparable.

It is not always possible to live in black and white. Colors must be felt.

Her hair danced in the breeze. A spirit that soared with the wings of an angel
She was both alive and broken
Her eyes were as bright as the moon, while tears rolled down her pale cheeks
Her heart was choking with memories, but she had forgotten what to love and be loved felt like.
There were times when it seemed if time had frozen like a broken record on repeat
All she could hear was the echoes of her lonely heart
She needed to let go so that her heart's scattered pieces could come together
And allow her to be whole again.

If the eyes can see, beauty does not need a caption

Some paths are destined to be beautiful. May the path you walk on be one of them.

I always loved the darkness it has a way to light up my soul

The darkness in you ignites the fire inside me

I could write the most beautiful poetry if I wanted to. But what good is the poetry if it’s complete without you.

What she missed most about him was his smile.

Drifting downwards on the stony hills, only to be picked up by the breeze,
I can hear my lover's voice echo off on the lonely landscape.
Where are you, my love? Your voice plays like a sadden tune,
It sinks into the chambers of my heart.
I am unsettled; I search for you aimlessly.
Wisps of dark clouds form, a gush of wind picks up, I am caught in the midst of a storm.
Again, distance and time conspire to separate us.  
Unable to see, I can hear only raucous roars of thunder and lighting.
Your voice fades away.
As the wretched winds push me, I try despairingly to hold on to something.
The storm gently ceases. My eyes open, I see my arms wrapped around you.
Two lovers lost finally come together forever.
Holding hands ​down the paths we walk,
As the splendent ​sun slowly sinks in the hills,
a new chapter awaits where love finally blooms

I brush my hair while deep thoughts run through my mind as I look at the mirror.
Caressing my face in pain, I question myself:
What’s wrong with the color of my skin?
I’m just a girl who was on my way to school when a group of
people stopped me.
Pushing and shoving me back and forth
Language was used and voices in rage exclaimed that I didn’t belong here.
As one of them knocked me down, my face hit the pavement and the beating went on.
Terrified I was, I thought I would be left to bleed and die.
Lifeless with onlookers passing by
I cried in agony.
When will this racism stop?
When will people realize I’m just the same as everyone else?
Do I have to be rich and famous for my voice to be heard?
As I got up with a shaking voice, I murmured I’m just a human being.  
But I don’t think anyone heard me.

There are infinite colors in the world, but nothing is comparable to the colors of your soul

She sits on her window sill watching the snow fall, while she sips her coffee.

Houses are adorned with every shade of festive lights.

Children play while loved ones hold hands on this cold winter night

As the vibrant voices of carols shine bright.

Bringing joy and love during this

beautiful season.

The sky lights up with a full moon in sight

But dark thoughts sneak into her mind

Another forlorn year without him

Wishing he was here beside her.

To be wrapped in each other’s arms

Spending this chilly Christmas together.

Even in my darkest days
you are the light
that enriches my soul.

I hear the waves crash back and forth, synchronizing in perfect harmony. The winds whisper my name. My heart beats fast.
The sky hangs over me, and the waves come near;
I’m pensive, self-absorbed. I walk alone, my soul uneased, searching for all the answers.
What’s there waiting for me, at the end of the ocean shores?

The tides move in and set me adrift in your love once more. The waves crash back and forth, synchronizing in perfect harmony. When I look at you, there are depths hidden in your beauty. Who are you? You are a treasure. Hidden beneath, you are the ocean; the epitome of mystery.

The only magic I can see is in your eyes.

The most beautiful artwork comes from us. Our lives are like a mosaic. Sometimes we have to break apart, in order to remake ourselves. That’s the beauty of life. With each trial, we are constructing new and different versions of ourselves; sculpting into a beautiful masterpiece.

Even the moon lit up, brilliant, when she saw the beauty in your darkness.