Indeed, poetry touches when it’s written closely from the heart—when your pen traces through every crevice until each margin is filled. Sometimes, you just have to find the kind of person who understands every word of your poetry. Someone willing to explore the depths of every line written across every piece of paper.

I do hope to find that person one day.
My own keeper.
My listener.
My reader.
Someone to carry it all with me, through every phase of life.

We perceive things differently—
hugging them only in ways we know how.
And so, we barely meet halfway.
Still, words are thrown,
beaten,
slitting open wounds that once lay sleeping,
penetrating an abyss
barely concealed by a fragile veil.

Even so, I stand here today—
a sentimental fool, as always,
apprehending every situation that fits,
viewing each one as an opportunity to grow
through experience.

lined, dotted, blank—
either way, words are written in me:
a thin piece of paper.

I carry what people write,
words I have no choice in,
but I hold them anyway,
with quiet glory.

and yet, despite bearing
the massive weight of ink,
vandalized,
I still get crumpled,thrown,
and worst of all—ignored.

perhaps it wasn’t exactly what they wanted to say,
but what went away in that moment.

Without exception to every situation they call love,
I wish things were different.
If only I were more, or less, or simply enough
what could’ve been?

Maybe no hearts would ache, no eyes would weep.
If fate weren't so unkind, there wouldn’t be words written right now.

there’s such a thing as spending time with someone—with nothing attached.
just two human beings, getting affectionate with each other.
no romance, no ***.
just two souls in a quiet room with screaming thoughts.

i’ve seen it in movies—
but not yet in real life.

what is it like,
to be in one?

There are promises we cling to
for dear life,
at times when everything feels shaky.

Yet not all promises are meant to be true —
for some,
are just words
meant to fill a void.

But when those promises remain unfulfilled,
they create holes
deeper than any alphabet can hold.

Easy to say,
yet hard to keep.
Easy to break,
yet the cuts run deep.

Words cut deeper than any knife,
inflicting wounds
that no one can heal.

And broken promises
drop a weight
into a heart
meant only to carry
feather-light weight.

Guarding something you cannot control
is like putting yourself in a war
you were never trained for.

Or maybe you were —
but still, it ends up placing itself in danger,
and eventually,
it kills its own.

Our heart is just like that:
soft, wired to love,
but bound to hurt.

I would like to see you again.
To stare at you for a moment.
To test if this is something I can undo.

Because, darling, I don’t know what you did, but I swear—
I’d give you my heart if you asked.
I’d let you explore even the deepest parts of me,
as long as it’s you.

But if fate is unkind,
then I’d still be glad just to breathe the same air as you,
to walk the same ground,
to see you from afar.

Oh, what have you done to me?

Ink's running out
as my thoughts get loud.
In between you and me,
my cup’s fuller.

The strings attached
are still clinging on tight—
but I will not hold on
any longer.

For this is, by chance,
a brief experience.
And that,
I should be grateful for—
because you made me feel
something
I had been longing for
before.

To be held,
for once,
with hands so warm
and willing
to engulf me as a whole.

This fleeting experience—
I'll hold on to.
For not even once
have I felt
a deep connection
I never wanted to end.

Perhaps,
it was you
or how you made me feel.
Or maybe,
it was your eyes
that I still wish
to stare into—
at least
for one last time.

Before I even decided to run,
I was already caught up with waking up early.
Body laid close to the pillows that I get drowned by all the time.
Clothes unprepared, shoes not in sight,
Mind still asleep, eyes glued to be closed tight.

We will never be ready for something unless we give it a try.
We can never really decide immediately without considering it.
Why? Are we scared that it might not be in our lane of comfort?
Such a funny thing to say. But aren't we all scared? Aren't we all not ready for anything?
But by faith, we believe that it’s better tried than left ignored.

Like words left written but never sent.
Shouldn't we be more daring because we've already lost a lot due to fear and uncertainty?
As if this world isn’t full of uncertainties.
We are built to embrace, to live, not to dismiss—
Cause what is there to live if we keep dismissing the life we are destined to?

Are we really that easy to be influenced?
For our feelings to be canceled out just because someone said so?
Was it that shallow — to be easily moved by the waves
that drifted us apart?

Or was the want never really enough
to withstand the waves?

We were just a stick in the sea,
waiting to get back to land,
but thrown instantly —
as if there was never a foundation to stay.

No one to hold,
No one to cry on.
In this life, I want someone to hold on to,
A hand to grip when mine is at stake.

Wishing to get a glimpse of the future,
For the life I want doesn't always go as planned.
A warmth of one's embrace is what I seek,
For the coldness of this world is making me numb.

The clouds in the skies are what I am:
Blue, white, and bright, yet at times gray and dark.
The rain pours nonstop like my tears,
Light yet it feels heavy.

In between the lines of needing and wanting to be held,
Close to grasp the reality of being alone.
Yet still hoping for my story to unfold,
That in this life I am not meant to be alone.