Every poem, in the order it arrived. Nothing is retired and nothing is hidden — the archive keeps the door open.
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Obsession
I cannot decide whether I am following you or being followed by the thought of you, but the distance between us shrinks and stretches like a corridor that refuses to stay one shape.
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Beloved
I am only a man learning to love you the way the world loves the seasons: completely, hopelessly, forever.
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Lady of the Quiet Rain
You are the serenity that travelers mistake for chance, the whisper a forest keeps in the folds of its leaves. There is a constellation tucked into your gaze, a patient flame, not burning, but glowing, like a truth that refuses to shout.
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Life Beyond The Stars
I have loved with the gravity of planets clung to bodies as if they were lifeboats sailing toward the infinite hush
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Mirror
Now the mirror shows a stranger I recognize. The same eyes, but deeper. The same hands, but steadier.
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Remembered
And still, in rare quiet evenings, I feel you like fading perfume, a tender ache under my ribs, a gift I could not keep, a love unheld, yet once real.
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Luna
You are the quiet moon, Luna you speak little, but each word turns the earth beneath me.
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Gratitude
Today I thank the simple things: the spoon that rests, the milk that bends into silk, the sun leaning gently through the window.
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Whatever This Is
And so I let it be. No forcing the current, no rushing the sun. Just one day, then another, on and on, until whatever this is becomes what it’s meant to be.
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I Smile For You
I smile for you, because love, when it’s true, is stronger than loud thunder, gentler than falling leaves, patient as the deep roots, clinging to mountain’s dark heart.
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Rain and Remembrance
Now, only the echo of you remains in the steam, rising like a ghost that refuses to forget the flavor of our mornings.
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What Mends
Your pretty smile is a hush beneath thunder, a gentle harbor in the stresses of man’s days. The world shouts, breaks, and tumbles – but you, you are the smile that mends it.
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Second Wind
Another sunrise. Another chance to get it right. And I will. Because the fire’s back – quiet, controlled, mine.
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Valentine’s Day
I choose the memory of your hands cupping my face like a prayer. I choose the stories you told, woven into the quiet spaces of my heart. I choose the castles, the palaces, the old stone bridges you never saw, but would have loved.
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Love
In your name, I have traveled the deserts of longing, the mountains of joy, and the valleys of despair. And yet, I would walk them all again just to feel the brush of your hand in mine.
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Esh Winning
And your name – you call it funny, but to me, it rings like poetry, the kind that arrives unannounced, stays in your chest for days, and reminds you of soft dawns, of spring mornings too perfect to repeat.
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Sparks
Moving on is not forgetting – it’s letting the ashes settle, letting the wind carry what remains, while we walk forward, hands empty, but hearts open for the fires yet to come.
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Silence
It is not emptiness I feel, but fullness – a space within me that dreams, that stretches its hands toward something unseen, something yet to arrive, something more beautiful.
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Unbroken
Time and again, we push through the dark, through the endless turning of days, never surrendering, never undone.
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Too Late
You resist, but you will remember me with each fallen leaf, each brittle crack beneath your feet. You will see me in the dying light, in the shadows that stretch too long, and you will wish you had held on tighter.