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They glow with such grace-
I fear the stars could rival
Like fresh dew in the morning-
See through- but I fail-
Blinded by the beauty,
Of a boy not meant for me.
A smile I'd die for,
Carved by angels
How long do I have left-
So hot I'd melt
Freckles and pimples-
They fit you so well-
Like hot cocoa on a rainy day
You emit warmth
To my cold soul
So ethereal,
So divine-
You really fell from heaven
And the goddesses
Probably jealous-
Of all the girls
That even get a glance
I'll close my eyes,
Dream us on a date night-
Stargazing and suddenly
a shooting star
And all I wish for,
Is you.
Every single time,
Just you.
Even in another life,
Only you.
Oh my-
We haven't even talked-
Not a word
Never ever smiled-
I'm still obsessed
With a boy not meant for me
But I think we have chemistry
So let's just forget physics
And test biology practically 🌚
(my first ever time writing about a crush😭-  his eyes are so clear like dew but I can't see through them cuz his beauty blinds me 😭😭)
In Palestine evil

shadows linger

softly draping the silence

where children once danced



A teardrop hangs

heavy in the air

whispers of yesterday

echo in the stillness



And Palestinian hearts

Torn a part and in

search for peace but

They only find aching

And painful memories unspoken.
Palestine 🇵🇸
love is the unkind thing
(purposeful & exacting)
,yit its wide arms hold
(truth in abundance,&)
me,to rub away the sore

things ,peel out under
(eyes,chin,sternum,waist&)
bedsheets so it is always
(drawing out sweat,you are)
close to me. a hurting thing.
Your love came with a mirror —
always turned toward you.
Every ache I carried
became your stage,
each tear a script you rewrote
until my grief wore your name.

You call me selfish for bleeding in silence,
cold for curling into myself
when the world splits open inside my ribs.
But you never learned the language of my wounds,
only the echo of your own hunger.

I taught my voice to disappear at the sound of your temper,
hid my heart deep in the hollows of my chest
so it would not become your target.
I bowed to your shifting weather,
set my boundaries aflame
just to keep your thunder from splitting me open.

You call this love —
but real love fills, it doesn’t empty.
It holds me close without erasing me,
lets me stand beside you without fading to shadow.

I am learning the sharpness of my own outline,
the sacred violence of choosing myself.
I am learning to hold my pulse in my own palms,
to stitch my heart back together without apology.

One day, you will call me heartless.
You will say I turned cold,
that I stopped trying.

But I did not stop.
I started —
to breathe,
to rise,
to exist beyond the echo of your need.

I gathered the shards of the woman I was,
the one who bent and bled and begged to be seen.
I learned to kiss my own scars,
to trace each fracture as a map back home.

From the ashes of your endless guilting demands,
I built a quiet garden,
where my laughter echoes without fear,
where no one questions its tone or rewrites my words.
My body is no longer a battlefield,
but a soft terrain, now free to be touched with reverence, not claimed in conquest.

I found the wild in my veins again —
the witch who once danced beneath the stars,
who sang secrets to the moon with salt on her lips,
who carried entire storms inside her ribcage
and called them her magic.

I am not heartless.
I am not cold.
I am a woman remade in flame,
wearing the smoke as a crown,
singing to the morning as my own name takes root.

I am the bloom after the burning,
the breath after the breaking,
the softness that survives the blade.

Watch me —
unfurl into everything you never dared to say I couldn’t be,
radiant and ruthless in my becoming.
Unapologetic. Untamed. Unstoppable.
I sought you out
You looked like you belong with me
Those eyes peering through my skin
Piercing my inner soul
How did you know?
It was so long ago
I sought you out
You looked like you belonged
To the gods
A profile so chiseled
Lips of a painful scar
A scar you earned
While fighting for me
Every chance you get
You need to wrap yourself
Amidst my gifts
Having to let them go amongst
Prying eyes
I sought you out
You look like you belong to me
You belong with me
 4d Yuiza Nabin
Yu
The hardest thing to do
Is to say goodbye
To close your eyes
To peacefully lie
The world goes dark
I'm afraid of the cold
The emptiness within
The fact I'll never grow old
Or see the flowers blossom
The sun rise once more
Not another breath
Pain, suffering, grief
It becomes meaningless
In the great scheme of things
A life once worthy
A memory once happy
A person once, ending it all
And everything is—
Finally gone
Like how things should be.
 4d Yuiza Nabin
Yu
Extreme ends of the earth
Connect, collide, to form the stars
Reaching out, grasping for a relation
To mend the seams of this broken devastation
Static in my ears, as I watch them dance
Melancholy in my eyes, as I yearn to be free
I stare into the mirror, my reflection in the water
Is that unfamiliar face, truly me?
 4d Yuiza Nabin
w
we wandered in circles and looked up when we talked. in those hours, in that perimeter, stayed an unminimized, undiminished calm. cautiously and casually, you asked questions and overshared in equal amounts. nonchalant and dying to be noticed, everything you did contradicted. you knocked the same way every time, eager and patient. you tested waters for the sake of it, you didn’t care almost as much as me; of course I understood
<3!
In a few months, I would become a mother
myself. Drove to her home, eager to spend
the day with my own mother. Tried to ignore
the deepening crevices in her face, arthritic

knuckles that still pounded dough to make
dumplings for others. Late afternoon, we perched
upon her kitchen stools, sipped chrysanthemum tea.
Her voice was quiet as she recalled leaving her dear mother

decades ago, toddler on hip, for a new life overseas. An unspoken goodbye that shimmered like silk between them. Sorrow distorted her face, the words strangled in her throat: Lao Lao, your grandma, had shuffled from room to room, stunned into silence, the roar of this impending

distance already drowning out my pleas for her to somehow understand. I was leaving her, perhaps forever. Her fingers had trembled as she gifted me a parcel containing two homemade qipao dresses and three tiny outfits for you –
a toddler who would grow up without ever knowing her grandma.

I watched my mom as she sat in her kitchen, shoulders slumped.
I could see how this loss broke something in her.  Still, I made
no move to embrace her. Apathy bloomed in my folded arms
and shifty eyes, a feeble attempt to shield myself

from her palpable pain. Didn’t realize that I would be steeped in it
a mere few months later. Didn’t quite know then how to measure the distance between these wounded souls spinning out, unsure
of which direction was ‘home’ and unable to turn back.

In this tale of three mothers, I now see the steadfast thread
of Your handiwork stitching together burdened hearts
spanning seas, lands, the spaces between. It was Your grace
that carried us — and only with You, did we each learn surrender.
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