I walked into
An old building
Vacant yet
Lived in

I opened
Door after door
Peering into
New air

I realized
I was searching
For what was
To be

There were
No windows
On the doors
For a reason

I could not peer
Into the future
The past
Was futile

There was
No knowing
Left only to patterns
Or engagement

I could stop
Walking
The corridors
Of this wood abode

One more door
To go
What was next
Solitude or sorrows

As I stood alone
I met the room
With nothing to lose
No compass for death

I stare at stars waiting patiently,
For it to come to me as it blinks,
Through My eyes which is humid,
I wait in the dry wind.
I stood up tired , as I wait the
Clouds to be  cleared , and the stars
It Hid,
I want the stars again to shine
And the moon to dwell the sky as it
Caress it , all I do now is longing for
Peace that bestowed once upon me !

Thrown into a space,
dark, frivolous, and suffocating,
sealed, with air
stale and unrenewable.

With every second that passes,
the feeling of exhaustion
pulses and oppresses,
with contractions of despair.

I despair. In a burst of energy,
I hurl myself against some exit,
invisible, intangible.

Waves and sharp surges
of despair overwhelm me,
flooding my soul—
restless and energetic,
tired and drained.

I seek, restless, to find
some way out of this place.

But stone walls
only echo my scream.

The futility of my attempts
corrodes my hope,
but a tiny crevice
opens in one of the walls,
pierced by the light.

It rekindles what remains,
killing despair -
partially.

Two crocuses
Have the whole garden
To themselves.

The mousetrap
Is snapped shut
And empty.

They told me I was loved.
Said it like a fact, like a given, like air.
And I nodded, let the words settle on my skin
but never sink in.

Because love—love is hands reaching,
but understanding?
Understanding is knowing why mine pull away.

I sat in rooms full of people who swore they cared,
but no one asked why my laughter always came half a second too late,
why silence fit me like a second skin.

They called me beautiful, said I was smart,
but never saw the way I flinched at echoes of my own thoughts.
They held me when I cried, but no one ever asked
what the tears were trying to say.

I used to think I was ungrateful—
to have love but still feel lost.
But now I know:
Love can be loud, can be warm, can be everywhere—
and still not speak your language.

So if you’ve ever felt this way,
like you exist in translation,
like love is the ocean but you are still thirsty—
I need you to hear this:

You are not wrong for wanting more.
You deserve to be understood.

Frost laces the earth —
a quiet diamond veil,
whispers of smoke rise,
spilling through the breath of trees.

Snow, soft as forgotten dreams,
drifts over stones, over roots,
its silence pressing close,
like a hand on the chest of night.

The wind, thin and sharp,
skims the hollow of the hills,
pulling shadows into its folds,
sewing the moon into the bones of the sky.

Bare branches stretch,
clawing toward a distant sun,
their fingers white and brittle,
writing cold prayers in the dark air.

Below, a river sleeps —
its pulse muted,
veiled under ice,
the valley cradles it in a long, slow sigh.

In the pause between seasons,
we linger —
half-light and half-shadow,
breathing the fragile quiet of winter,
waiting for what is to come.

My insides smell like
Cinnamon

But taste
like
wilted

flower petals;
Dry,
bland,
Dead, gone,
Desaturated colours
in my pupils

I melt into a pile of ash in
The ground

With the rest of the infertile soil,
With the insects
With the lush green grass
and the birds
and their nests full of twigs
And chirps
And songs
And hums
And sounds
That echo
That resound
That stay
That fly

With the sky.
Buried with my name.

Until it turns to night,

Then the
moon
and
stars

come out

And
I

Hide

A

W

A

Y

.

I spend many days
trying to sum up emotions
what do they equal to?
Feeling so much, and then so little,
I secure my belt
as I sit on this ride
these contradictions
blindside, and whiplash me.
But that's just life isn't it?
Peaceful, but frightful
joyful, but lonely...
I imagine that's an emotion
most people feel.
There's a longing so strong
I can almost touch it,
but it's not here.
And because of that my eyes are blurred
unable to see the beauty around me
even if there is just me
and things don't add up.