This poem
I want it to show me the way
These days, how can I nurture my love more?

What kind of a poem would truly help me?
How can I be helpful to others, too?
I choose my words pretty carefully.

Should I write about life?
Should I be avoiding strife, and holding on and feeling off?
But it all belongs here, I can't make it disappear...

Feeling stuck and trying to move,
Listening to one's heart's groove,
Hoping for an answer in the distance...

A white boat sailing towards the sun,
Those last seconds before it disappears
In the ocean, or the sea...

Darkness comes and the red goes away,
We experience change anyway.
Nurturing my soul by giving hope to others,

Writing from the heart, late at night in bed.
Instead of healthily falling asleep,
My mind was searching for a place to take the leap,

To express concerns and worries to me,
To make me want to let go genuinely,
But I ever slow begin to understand,

What it means when I don't need to pretend.
I don't know how I would handle that...

Isn't it a spoiled life:

picking flowers on the edge --


of the precipice?

It's a broken frame now
But it used to be the most beautiful view
Art isn't born without intention
The fear and anger mixed make it pretentious
Loved a picture because of its beauty, pots and flower
Blamed the person who made it
A broken mirror.
It showcases itself as a beautiful victim
Making sanity lose itself; it's a verbatim
Quiet souls try hard to fix the broken
Putting bandages over its narrations
Letting the shards cut the flesh
Saying, “it's what makes fear feel fresh”
Night was awaiting,
You left it complaining
The perfect picture in a wooden frame
How come it let itself be framed?
An easel wasn't its job after all
It felt the pressure of worlds and broken hearts.
Love was being painted on top
Envy was the only emotion for its wrath
You should've told me you were as fragile as a glass
The tension phrases of “Sorry” can't fix the broken pieces of glass

How will the guilt go?
When the souls of the past bubble up to sorrows

He just wasn’t ready to step out of the door
He wasn’t ready to work in the light
He wasn’t ready to acknowledge his team
Though they had been knocking a lifetime
He wasn’t ready to bury his ego and embrace the chaos.

The blank page screams at him
The art that won’t come
The art that is fickle, teasing
And just out of reach

And what emerges from this struggle?
It is his ego splattered across the canvas
No spirit
No depth
No love for his art
Just compromise.

The old man stirred on his death bed
Looked back through time
Onto another road that he never travelled
And, summoning all the art that he would take to the grave
Breathed out.

There’s a voice in my head
haunting me—
pulling at the seams of my reservation.

In this forest, it calls—
soft and distant,
waiting for me to walk deeper into the hush.
In this white dress, the grass blades cut my ankles,
vines wrap around the autumn trees,
luring me farther in.

It calls whenever it wants,
wherever it wants—
patiently waiting to hold me in its grasp.

I stand beneath a towering tree,
feet bleeding into the earth,
the sky swallowed in rust and gold.

Looking far and wide,
only the vastness of forest meets my eyes.
Even as I run,
there’s only a sea of fallen leaves.

I feel the wind against my skin.
The back of my neck tingles
from a touch I cannot see.
It doesn’t hold me physically—
but I feel its grasp,
spirit-deep.

Whatever it is,
it wants to be found by me.

So I keep running—
not to escape,
but to chase the feeling of fleeing.
Letting the wind lift my hair from my face
as the sun’s light begins to fade.

Still, the forest keeps calling.
Whatever I have left—
let it be swept away by the autumn wind.


- N.V. 🥀

"so you want it to be the same?"
pretty much, yeah
"in that restauranty place?"
exactly, even i am not sure where was it.
"leather seatings"
yep, brownish and sincere
"you wanna hear a new song, talk, sing, play?"
last time was special, he sang
and asked my opinion
i want to play this time
and him to sing along to my strings
then a small talk
but since that's an order i want a big talk
you know jokes and mentions of families
behind the cameras, maybe some memories
and the nights of tears
"that's too much you won't have the time needed"
i know, just wanted to try,
first part then, i hope he does it all singing
"do you trust him"
i do, this happened twice
"alright, your order is under processing
we'll get back to you shortly
we hope"
thanks, can't wait