The sea does not harm me; she waves, oblivious, as if she is unaware of her existence, she has more to do, more things that don’t rely on me or you. She serves as a reminder, creating a doleful shift, sending a dull needle through my skin. It’s not intentional, but it leaves a sting, a thought, a chill.

The way she ebbs to the shore, so unbothered, so busy and unconcerned. Her sting follows me; h...

Small life lessons wrapped in gentle love, Wisdom hidden in games and notebooks. Messages of growth given to me, before I could read, Presented in art and kind deeds— All handmade so I could see.

Hot cocoa and chocolates you saved for me; I kept each wrapper, And now I remember what it’s like to feel seen, Even when the world feels cruel and mean.

Thank you for the tattoos you transferred When y...

Small hands. Little blonde strands that gently danced. Strong scents of suncream and pale tans. A pit of dreams buried in soft sand and melted ice cream. No shaking hands; just cheeky glances, smiles and silly laughs.

And among the innocent chatter about unimportant matters, a determination and desire to take chances.

To fly, like the angels and fairies did. To push yourself the highest on the ...

You exist when I feel most alone, when I’m cooking dinner or scrolling through my phone. You sit while I complete my mundane tasks; you don’t say much but sometimes we laugh to help time pass.

Your presence, though it is not much, is more than enough because you somehow never judge. Your impartial silence is more to me than a disapproving voice or a heavy hand throwing my gentle thoughts around...

The building didn’t change, the simple architecture remains but somehow the exited warm feeling is no longer the same.

The people stay here, not quite happy but they know they’d never want to leave. I know how they feel, I’ve been where they’ve been- I’ve felt all their feelings and now all I’m left with is grief. Not quite grieving the place, all the walls stay the same, but grieving the perso...

S inking into my bed, my mind feels empty and cold, it writes stories about us that still remain untold. D reams of you are all I have left, it’s the only place our love remains free, it runs around my mind, unbothered about expectations or acceptance. R oping itself around my veins, almost suffocating me until I wake and when I do, I’m stuck, stuck in the reality of time. A fter I wake I have no...