"To the one I wish I had met differently,"

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.... — % &"Not evil, just hurt" — % &

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"To the Girl Who Writes with Starlight"

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"Sunsets,
Sarcasm &
Slight Emotional Damage"

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"In Another Form, It Returns"

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Sometimes I hope we were just two little cats in love,
curled up on rooftops under moonlight,
chasing shadows, not explanations.
No words, no wounds,
— just purring hearts, beating in sync,
in a world too soft to hurt us.— % &...... — % &

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.......

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I Think My Love Has Fur — % &.... — % &

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And no,
he wasn't some upbeat song,
lost in neon lights and noise,
he was a timeless ghazal,
that played softly in the
background of my loneliest evenings.

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Summer faded, and so did the war.
No, I didn’t win,
I never got him.
But as I lay broken on the battlefield,
bathed in blood and salt-stung tears,
a truth rose from the silence:
The war was never about winning him.
It was about losing the illusions,
about facing the ghosts that whispered
that love must hurt to be real.
And in that painful reckoning,
I didn’t find him,
I found me.

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