I am afraid of my own tears, Afraid they may fall too fiercely, Hot as confession, Heavy as centuries of hidden pain, And burn the softness from my face. The mirror has always known me As the obedient girl with the practiced smile, The one whose lips bloom on command Like prayer offered before an Read more…

In the middle of mustard fields, where yellow flowers stretch farther than the eye can hold, she stands— a lonely girl, as if she has always belonged to this quiet. The wind brushes past her, lingers a little, moves on. The flowers lean, almost like they know her story, almost like they’ve heard it before— Read more…

The empty streets were patient that night. The hurried feet of day had disappeared, and the old bends of the road seemed to wait— as if they knew someone like me would eventually return. April had been cruel again. The thunderstorms came and went, yet even they failed to disturb the stubborn calm of those Read more…

The land inside me was fading for a long time, slipping into deep, quiet seas where even hope felt too tired to swim. Then he came — not like the heroes in stories, not with crowns or shining things — just a gentle love that didn’t need me to pretend I was strong. He noticed Read more…

I went walking under trees that didn’t care whether I noticed them or not. Green everywhere. Too much, maybe. Monkeys argued in bursts, sharp sounds cracking the evening open, as if they knew something the rest of us were late to understand. The light thinned. The sun slipped away without ceremony. Standing there, I felt Read more…

People keep telling me how I should look, as if the mirror belongs to them. They say a girl should stay gentle, polished, never drift too far into dreams. And whenever I try embracing individuality, someone asks me to tone it down, to come back to their version of “real.”

You say the world outside is too much— too loud, too bright, too unsure. And maybe you’re right, but you forget what I carry inside. When I close my eyes, the air shifts. There’s a gate that creaks open somewhere far. A place built not of stone but of thought— my castle of dreams, tall, Read more…

Some mornings, you don’t rise—you surface. As if you were underwater all night and forgot how to breathe. It’s not a sharp fall. It’s a quiet one, woven from half-finished thoughts and the weight of things left unsaid. It’s the kind of moment that calls for healing from within, even if you don’t realize it Read more…

I don’t know why— why I’m always the one feeling misunderstood, as if my silence is a fault, my words, an attack. You judge me by how I sound, but never by the ache that shapes my voice. You defend your intent— but hold mine on trial. When I say I’m tired, you say I’m Read more…

Some nights, I think about what it would be like to vanish into the moon and stars — not as some grand escape, just as someone who’s had enough noise for a lifetime. Up there, the dark night sky doesn’t ask questions. The waning moon keeps to itself, fading without apology, returning without ceremony. I Read more…