poetry
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Some people remember you only when loneliness needs somewhere soft to land—and forget every promise that made leaving necessary.
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It may not be love yet, but something keeps tilting her world toward one person with unmistakable gravity.
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Silence becomes its own language in the lingering glances, unfinished goodbyes, and distance that never teaches the heart to wander.
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Some people never fully leave; they become the ache of almost, lingering in songs, coffee cups, and the empty spaces beside us.
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Three weeks, three apologies, three promises—and the growing realization that sorry means less every time nothing changes.
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Every class, meeting, form, and requirement is powered by the same reason: two boys who still call her Mom and a home waiting for them.
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After men who confused control, desire, and love, one familiar person stands apart in the softness of ordinary things he chooses to share.
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He crossed an ocean while she crossed the distance between fear and sleep, meeting somewhere in the safety of a voice through a screen.
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Some connections are terrible at staying and strangely gifted at finding their way back to the same conversation.
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If timing were somewhere they could meet, perhaps there would be a version of them that never had to keep saying goodbye.
Between Bruises & Blooms 