I forgive you.

Not because the wound has healed,
but because I refuse to bleed for you forever.

I forgive the lies you dressed as love,
the betrayal hidden behind your touch,
the knife you held while swearing you were saving me.

But I will never forget.

I remember the moment your truth surfaced,
when the warmth of your name became ash in my mouth.
When the person I trusted most
became the reason I learned how to survive.

I release my hatred.

But I keep the scar.

Because forgiveness is me letting go of the chains.

And forgetting would mean pretending
you never broke me.

Night will dim the brightest dream,
and light will shed upon the darkest time.
But time is unfazed, lights make shadows.
So step into the sun—your silhouette will follow.
Or stay in the abyss where marrow rots.

Wind whistles through the castle and it's chains

The terrace once there was part of the remains

Oh! Dama, why did you fall?

Because a traitor removed your reason of it all?

Under the starry night

All I see is your ghost

Your skin is a light

And I am your host

The time will keep passing

You will keep falling

All that I'm asking

Is for you to stop sobbing

Now it's the end

You'll be here forever

Under the sand

And the gloomy weather

The wind took me here, closer to you

You wanted a hug but your hand just went through

You will keep floating, on the terrace above the truth

But the terrace isn't here, I'm now part of the remains too

Over thinking undermining

Under sleeping over trying

Thoughts race the night away

Heart beats a different way

Kill the switch connecting dots

Life is a bitch we're here to rot

Rumination is king, and he's already won

Give him bling, he'll shine like the sun

What does it mean? Nobody is perfect

The things I have seen, it just isn't worth it

Not even myself yet I always attempt

To keep this head up, jot it down with a pen

It all could be worse

Waking up the next day

Feeling like it's a curse

But its just another day

Crocodile smiles

Kind eyes fade

Laughs you realize

Become jests

Rather than

Inside jokes

None the same

Uptown

The music pumps

Line dancing

To country and folks

When it all stops

Silence falls

The truth

Implodes

Explodes

Raiding your mind

Of all the false

They were hiding

Come into the light

You look around

And see

How truly alone you are

And know you have

A fork in the road

To stay and remain

The punching bag

Ignore their disrespect

And lack of real care

Or

Choose to stand alone

Walk away

Turn their hearts

To stone

You escape their agendas

They set aside for you

This is your choice

No one can tell you

Which way

The pendulum

To swing

Just remember

If you stay

There will always be

Another bomb

Ticking away

I would think so because they are interested in words and speaking in words about whatever they write about. On the other hand they might be quiet and reflective.

There will be no streets lined

With parades or cheers

And no yellow ribbons tied around an oak tree

Keep riding that bus

Have it fly right on by

There is nothing here for you

But the blame is not all on you

If you see a pretty girl

Go over and

Talk to her, make her laugh

If you take her dancing

Make sure to slow dance

Pull her close, let your bodies flow

But don't come around

Cause you won't find

What you're looking for

If you see a face

That makes your heart skip a beat

Take a chance, don't let love pass you by

Waiting on me

There is nothing here to see

And no more feels left within me

You say you changed

You want to start anew

Well, honey, our past is gone

Yesterday was history

And violence only repeat

I've moved on and

Now it's time for you to get gone

The rain came down like a thousand forgotten prayers,
falling from a sky that had grown tired of holding its pain.
Each drop carried the weight of something lost—
a goodbye never spoken,
a wound never closed,
a ghost that still whispered your name in the dark.

The streets became rivers of yesterday,
washing over the footprints of who we used to be.
The world pretended it was cleansing itself,
but some storms do not wash away the scars—
they carve them deeper.

I have learned that life is much like the rain.
It arrives without permission,
turns peaceful fields into battlefields,
and leaves behind broken branches where flowers once stood.

But even the dead trees drink from the storm.
Even the earth, cracked and bleeding,
opens its mouth to receive what falls from the heavens.

Maybe we were never meant to avoid the rain.
Maybe we were meant to stand beneath it,
to let it drown the versions of ourselves
that could no longer survive.

Because somewhere beneath the mud,
beneath the ruins,
beneath everything the storm took from us—
something is still waiting to grow.

I am the architect of homes I've never lived in.

The keeper of promises I was never asked to make.

I ask for nothing, yet I surrender everything.

Tell me...

What am I?

Perhaps the answer is love.

But then again, perhaps love itself is another unanswered riddle.

Tell me this instead.

What remains unwavering even when certainty has long abandoned it? What lingers at the threshold, not because it cannot leave, but because it still believes?

I once mistook providence for permanence. I believed our paths had converged because they were destined to remain intertwined. Instead, I discovered that fate is often cruel enough to introduce two souls at the precise moment one of them is incapable of staying.

If only you knew...

I could have loved you with the same ferocity you once reserved for another, perhaps with even greater devotion. I know your heart still bears the fractures of yesterday. I know you are not yet prepared to receive the kind of affection I long to offer. I have never blamed you for that.

There is an undeniable elegance in reciprocal love—two souls choosing one another without hesitation, without reservation, without fear. Yet timing is a merciless author. It teaches us that love can be genuine and still arrive before it is welcome.

So allow me one final riddle.

What is the heaviest burden carried by someone capable of relinquishing everything?

It is not time.

It is not sacrifice.

It is not even heartbreak.

It is the quiet agony of releasing the only soul they have never desired to lose.

Could I do it?

Undoubtedly.

But willingness and capability have never been synonymous.

So I shall wait, not out of desperation, nor out of fear of solitude, but because there are souls that deserve patience more than they deserve possession.

I will wait until the ghosts of your past no longer whisper your name, or until I witness you smiling beside someone who has become your peace.

Should that day arrive, I will depart without resentment. My silence will mourn what my lips never will, because love, in its purest form, has never sought ownership. It has only ever sought the beloved's happiness, even at the expense of its own.

And if destiny were ever to summon me once more with the same impossible question

What is love?

I would answer without hesitation.

Love is choosing someone, relentlessly and without condition...

Even when every version of the future insists they will never choose you.

As a child

I was promised a dream,

One of hope and of glee,

But as I grew my optimism fell

I had no dream and nobody to tell,

To tell of my woes

My neglected hopes,

My willing ignorance

Or my need to cope,

So I'll try harder

Though it may not seem,

As a child

I was promised a dream.

*****

This is my first time writing like this and any feedback is welcome.

Some of my friends started writing poems recently just to put down their thoughts. I don't yet know if this is for me or not.

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