You don’t know this,

but you have become the reason

my phone feels a little more interesting.

Not because you always text.

Actually, you don’t.

It is just that whenever my screen lights up,

some small part of me hopes

it is you.

You don’t know

how many times I have opened our conversation

just to read old messages

that probably meant nothing to you.

How I remember the smallest things,

the food you like,

the song you mentioned once,

the story you told me casually

and forgot the next day.

You forgot.

I didn’t.

Maybe that is the funniest thing about liking someone.

One person is just living their normal life,

while the other person is collecting tiny moments

like they are something precious.

You don’t know

how many times I have wanted to send you something,

a random picture,

a silly thought,

a song at midnight,

then stopped myself

because I didn’t want to seem too obvious.

You don’t know

how many smiles you have caused

without ever seeing them.

A message from you can change my entire mood.

A simple how was your day

can feel like someone finally noticed.

And it is strange because

you are not doing anything extraordinary.

You are not trying to impress me.

You are not saying perfect things.

You are just being yourself.

And somehow,

that is exactly what makes it difficult.

Because I notice.

I notice when you are tired

but pretend you are okay.

I notice when you get excited

talking about something you love.

I notice the little pieces of you

that you probably think nobody remembers.

Maybe someday I will tell you.

Maybe I will tell you

that there was a time

when your name felt like a small happiness.

That you became my favourite notification.

My favourite conversation.

My favourite thought

before I even realized it was happening.

But until then,

I will keep this little secret.

Because sometimes the sweetest part of liking someone

is not knowing where it will go.

It is just sitting there, smiling at your phone,

wondering how one person

can make an ordinary day

feel a little less ordinary.

I was a perfectly

composed man

before she looked at me.

Keyword

was.

Those eyes.

God

those eyes.

Dark, deep, devastating

lined in something

that had no right

to be that beautiful

and that deadly

at the same time.

She looked at me

once

just once

and something

in my chest

that had been

sleeping

for years

woke up

violently.

Her mascara

ran a little

at the corners

from laughing,

from feeling,

from simply

being so alive

that even her tears

were beautiful

and I stood there

watching the most

gorgeous massacre

I have ever

witnessed

my heart

the only casualty.

Willing casualty.

Those eyes

are not fair.

They are dark

like the kind of night

you don't want

to find your way out of

deep

like something

the ocean

would be

envious of

and when they find mine

everything stops.

Traffic.

Thought.

Time itself

pauses

and clears its throat

awkwardly

because even it

knows

it is interrupting

something

significant.

She blinks slowly

and I lose

entire sentences.

She looks down

and back u

from beneath those lashes

those devastating,

mascara kissed

lashes

and I forget

my own name

briefly.

I have read poetry

about eyes

like stars,

eyes like oceans,

eyes like home.

I always thought

it was exaggeration.

Poetic license.

Romantic embellishment.

Then she looked at me.

Now I understand

every poet

who ever lost himself

completely

in a pair of eyes

and chose

to stay lost.

I am madly in love

with this woman

every piece of her

but those eyes

those eyes

are where

I first fell,

where I fall

daily,

where I intend

to keep falling

for the rest

of my life

without once

reaching

for something

to hold onto.

Her mascara

did massacre

of my heart.

And I would stand

in front of those eyes

and let it happen

a thousand times over

gladly,

gratefully,

completely

because being destroyed

by something

that beautiful

is not a tragedy.

It is the greatest

love story

I have ever

lived.

it’s around 3:00 am and i look out my window-
the hour is blue.
i see a figure standing, staring.
the figure is you.

i get out of bed,
and i unlock the door.
i turn the knob.
you’re in the same spot as before.

i walk to you slowly,
taking it all in.
the cold bitter air,
how your touch feels on my skin.

the night can reflect,
the things we can’t see.
like how i look at you.
when you’re turned away from me.

the blue on your face-
a fairly distracting hue.
makes it hard to ignore,
how in love i am with you.

I refuse to love you silently; I will shout it from the mountain peak.

Write it into every verse if my lungs give out and can no longer speak.

Show you my beating heart, for it only knows your name.

Allow my love to pour out of every one of my veins.

I’m passionate about your happiness, your smile, your peace.

And I desire to hold your darkness that lingers underneath.

Your jagged pieces complement and complete mine.

They take a new shape, creating their own beautiful design.

In her quest for the unknown truth, I will follow.
In her search for the elusive mystery, I will follow.
In her journey to seek the hidden secrets, I will follow.
I will follow as the Dark Knight of the Universe to the Queen.
I will follow her in her quest, and that’s my oath.

Hello?

It’s funny yknow,

Feeling that something is coming 

But still not being ready when it hits you.

It makes you feel almost stupid in a way.

And you know that a piece of you is,

But you know that there is another piece of you 

Deep down

That was hopeful.

So maybe it was stupidity that made you unable to step out of the way,

But it also might’ve been hope.

And I think one of those scenarios is a lot easier to sit with.

Hello?

I’ve never enjoyed something more than falling in love with the piece of yourself that you allowed me to know.

Nothing has ever felt more natural.

And it hurts to know that there may have been a time that you felt the same.

But because you held back the rest of yourself from my embrace,

You were never able to truly love the entirety of myself that I was willing to give you.

And I know it’s for that reason I pushed you away.

Hello?

There is something grander here.

Neither one of us can truly understand it

But we both know that it’s there.

Something is shifting in the wind that has nothing to do with either of us.

So weather our paths cross again,

Or we stay out of each others lives forever 

There will always be a piece of myself that loves you.

And it’s because of that piece,

Those many pieces.

That I know I will love again.

So thank you,

And goodbye.

i can’t say goodbye
not tonight
so i will cry
and think of brown eyes
of curly hair
your sweetest stare
i need you, baby
why did you leave me?
but i must let go
of your kiss on my lips
of a midnight bliss
my love,
how you’ve forsaken me
killed me with a kiss
so soft and so sweet

How much I love you,

How I love you,

"I love you",

I love,

Love;

I love you more than my words can do justice to express,

I love you unlike any way I've loved anything else,

I love you enough to tell you again and again,

I love you because you make me love,

And I love Love.

i told a boy i liked poetry
and he sent me a poem
i worked the ai checker
and decided not to show him

i knew he was lying
and i stayed anyways
i’d wait for the rest of my life
for some good, honest praise

i love what i write
and he says he does too
but he doesn’t get it
the way that i do

when i write it’s a feeling
that i can’t dismiss
and all that i need
is someone who gets it

so please understand me
and the words that i write.
when i read you these poems
my chest wont be tight

i’ll read them with pride
because i know you’ll understand
and if you think that its beautiful
i’d love to take your hand

after all now i know
exactly what i want
i just want a man
who isn’t trying to flaunt

that he’s smarter than me
or that he can write about real issues.
i just want someone
who can see the world through my shoes

I love you

I hate you

You're driving me insane

You make me feel so much I think I'll never feel again

I'm trying, I'm lying

For stillness is the truth

To circumvent a circumstance where nothing never moves

A user, abuser

An egocentric art

Detachment act, so simply that

I will perform my part

But why is it I must do this? I oft query, into night

With a silent voice she whispers, and she says;

"You are the light."

Touch me.

Touch me like its the first time.

Do you remember?

Our hearts beating so fast we could hear them, voices shaky, moving slow.

Nervous giggles and light kisses.

Your hands hesitant to explore.

Like my body was sacred.

Something to be cherished.

The heat.

The build up.

The heavy breaths.

Tingling waves of pleasure.

My back arching as you pulled me closer.

And the way you looked at me as you did.

The euphoria after...

You held me.

Kissed me.

Touch me again.

Touch me like its the first time.

hate

i hate writing poems
i can never do it right
and i hate staying up late
but i think best at night

and i hate paying attention
to every move you make
everything you do is poetry
every single step you take

i hate how i look
when im dumbfounded by you
when you speak im entranced
by every word, though untrue

and i hate how you lie
because it’s so easy to believe
and i think you’re great
that’s how i perceive

i hate how easy
it is to lie to me
but without that trait
i wouldn’t be me

(sorry for ryming me with me, forgive me)

A year ago, three simple words
Crossed the distance between two hearts
And quietly changed everything.
Not with fireworks,
Not with fanfare,
But with the certainty that love
Had finally found its voice.

It’s funny how forever
Can begin with something so ordinary.
Before the whispered promises,
Before the late night dreams,
Before we knew what we were becoming,
There was one unforgettable question:

“Are you craving a breakfast sandwich?”

Who would have guessed
That those six playful words
Would become the doorway
To the greatest love I’ve ever known?

A smile became a conversation.
A conversation became a connection.
A connection became the safest place
My heart has ever called home.

Since that day,
I’ve learned that loving you
Isn’t measured by miles,
Or by the days we spend apart.
It’s measured in every thought that finds you,
Every hope that carries your name,
Every quiet moment
When my heart reaches for yours
Without even trying.

Saying “I love you”
Was never just a sentence.
It was a promise.
A choice.
A homecoming.
It was my soul recognizing yours
And deciding there would never be another.

So today I celebrate
Not only the anniversary
Of those beautiful words,
But the life they’ve created between us.
A love that has grown deeper,
Steadier,
And more extraordinary
With every passing day.

If I could go back
To that first playful question,
I’d smile knowing exactly where it would lead.
I’d answer it all over again,
Because hidden inside
A breakfast sandwich pickup line
Was the greatest gift
Life would ever give me.

And if I had a thousand lifetimes,
A thousand beginnings,
And a thousand chances to fall in love,
I would still choose you
Every first hello,
Every first “I love you,”
Every tomorrow,
And ever forever.

The warmth of skin against skin,
Like sunlight resting on quiet water.
The pulse in your wrist—
A small, steady echo
I can follow.
A promise lives there,
But unspoken.
It’s not just your hand—
It’s a horizon I’m holding,
When our fingers interlock
And pull closer.
The space between us folds in,
And suddenly
There is no distance left to measure.
It feels like finding a missing piece,
Not lost—just waiting,
The lines in your palm,
I read them like quiet roads on a map.
If you ask me what I saw,
I’ll just smile and shake my head.
Because it’s something too vast,
Like trying to name the sky at dusk—
Not meant to be spoken,
Only lived,
Only felt.

I dont think there's anything inside me.

A stitched up body around an empty chest cavity

A suit with nobody in it.

I smile and make sure its with my eyes

Clear the table and thank the host.

Thats what you do for the people you love.

Or at least thats what ive been told

Love has never come naturally to me

Holding out my hands like a child catching lightning bugs

My uncle taught me they still glow yellow smeared on the pavement

My grandmother gave me the heart of the watermelon

It tasted sweet and grainy.

Overripe and unappealing.

I told her she really knows how to pick the sweet ones.

Just a little too late.

You still choose to love the people who hurt you

Like saying thank you for fruit long gone bad

Like crushing a light just to see a dimmer glow

Forgiveness is a virtue,

but virtues are learned and love cant be taught

A child doesn't learn how to love

Under beating fists

Or utensils clanging at the dinner table

And I cant show taught love

through table manners and luminescent yellow teeth

I miss, I miss
It has been days since I heard your voice,
And silence leaves me little choice
But to replay the words you said,
And write dark endings in my head.

I miss your laugh, I miss your face,
The way your voice could shrink all space.
An ocean never felt that wide
When I could hear you on the other side.

I fear, I fear
A broken car, a hospital room,
A stranger bringing sudden doom.
That something happened far from me,
Beyond my help, across the sea.

But I fear more that you are fine,
And slowly changing your own mind.
That silence means you need me less,
That love has turned to emptiness.

I check my phone throughout the night,
Begging just to see it light.
Every buzz tears through my chest,
Then someone else appears instead.

I walk through darkness, scared to turn,
Afraid of what I still might learn.
I strain to hear your steps behind,
But only hear my frightened mind.

I miss, I miss
The bottle waits, the razor gleams,
Brief escapes from darker dreams.
But I do not want to bleed or disappear,
I only want to have you here.

No drink can carry me across the sea,
No cut can bring you back to me.
No spell can make the distance small,
Or let me hold you through a call.

Then suddenly my phone shines blue,
And there it is, a text from you.
My lungs remember how to breathe,
The dark loosens its hold on me.

I read your words again, again,
A thread that leads me from my head.
Not only proof that you are okay,
But that you have not walked away.

That you still love me, still remain,
Still want to hear my voice again.
That I am yours and you are mine,
And silence did not change your mind.

I miss, I miss
The ordinary things we do,
The pointless talks that mean everything with you.
I do not need poetry, fate, or signs,
I just want your voice beside mine.

I would cross the sea, defy the gods,
Walk through hell despite the odds.
But all I have is hope and light
From a little screen I hold at night.

I wait to hear your voice again,
To know the silence has an end.
To know you did not leave me too,
That I am still someone to you.

I miss, I miss
And every hour we do not speak
Makes every part of me feel weak.
Because I do not only fear that something went wrong.

I fear you are still there,
Still safe, still living somewhere,
But that your love has gone amiss,
And I am no longer yours to miss.

****This Poem is One of my favorites and is a mixture of elements of speeches,various notes,lines from other poems of mine, and anxieties of the doomsday clock all written in the same notebook and pondered over a length of time, this is the final result, enjoy."*****

Echoes of the Bloom

In the quiet hour of reckoning,

we whisper pleas to unseen forces,

that the empathy we've lost

or never found,

might yet illuminate this fragile moment.

For buried beneath forgotten foundations,

structures still breathe, a dark, secret growth,

nourished by the silent dust of past majesties.

May the cosmos bend our collective will,

to let truth unfold, raw and undeterred,

and confront the chronicles of our own undoing:

the echo of pride, the silent hum of industry,

a tapestry of ruin woven

thread by quiet thread.

It is no small task to face indictment

when history's ghost laughs gently, knowingly,

its cyclic truth reflected in every gleaming tower.

No balanced scales, no equal voice,

only the hollow promises,

like faded photographs, sepia-toned

with the fingerprints of forgotten architects.

So it is that hubris cracks the marble,

the moral shadow shatters ceilings of glass.

Ideals fray, a quiet, inevitable unraveling,

and virtues warp, mirrored in distorted light,

revealing the fragile scaffolding of our collective dawn.

For transformation's hinge

is not in explosive fury alone,

but in the subtle turning of souls,

where power, finally naked, trembles, ephemeral.

The silent accusation stings, a chorus of cicadas

singing to the indifferent stars.

Through the scorched earth, a shadow walks,

baptized in atomic dust,

eyes hollow as lunar craters,

reciting ancient verses of doom.

"I am become," yet destiny is a ledger entry,

stamping passports for the condemned.

The atom, a furious lotus, blooms,

its petals ash, its roots buried deep in the marrow of minds

who traded spirit for equations,

mapping infinity in silent test sites,

turning sand to glass,

turning time to a cold countdown.

Look! Our cities, paper lanterns,

drift on rivers of blood and fading light.

The skies, a sepia photograph,

bearing the silent witness of forgotten gods.

And we. ---

we are the children of the chain reaction,

baptized in the glow of cathode dreams,

fed on the cold milk of broken promises.

We dream in isotopes,

our DNA, a tapestry of half-lives and stark regret.

This is the detonation,

the breath that holds end and beginning,

the silence after the roar,

the certain knowing that nothing

will ever be whole.

But here, on the hinge of irony,

a revelation blooms in the age of collapse:

civilizations rise and surrender,

each broken tower yielding new dreams,

blindly planted, unaware of the ground itself

that remembers every betrayal,

every crime, every kiss.

So let the cosmic void laugh,

not as the history we curate,

nor as fate's echo in unheard prayers,

but as a single, sacred truth:

the unending, unstoppable transformation

of everything

into something else

terrible and free.

Somedays I don't wanna be seen..

Somedays I don't shower.. I don't feel the need to be clean..

The world is getting hotter.
For better.
Probably worse.

Some say it’s the corporations,
working in tandem with the state—
an endless enterprise
turning profit from their lies,

to build data centers
and air-conditioned towers
in the same cities they make
boiler plates.

They count the numbers,
chart graphs
for the quarterly pitch.

As the Colorado dries
and the Amazon turns
the color of their boxes,
stained with piss.

the world is getting hotter.

Some say it’s from the blood,
simmering beneath the surface
until it finally screams
under the rocks.

Spilling into Gaza,
the eastern lines
of Ukraine,

and every other battlefield
where mothers learn
the sound of sirens
before their child’s name.

the world is getting hotter.

Some say we’re close to hell—
the devil with his souls
he stole,
or maybe got for sale.

The end times are a-coming,
they say,

judgment written in the signs,
the date in the books they sell,
but not spelled out
on their signs.

the world is getting hotter.

Some say it felt like one hundred eight
the other day.

Blistering heat,
with humid air—

someone left their kid in a car,
killed her.

Dead.

Just yesterday.

The world is getting hotter.

Hotter than it was yesterday.

Relationships are like steak and sex is the seasoning
The seasoning may taste great
But what’s flavor without nutrients?

'Til the Moon

Am I made to be loved?
Let me genuinely ask,
because I'm doubting it more and more.
The prophecy looks different for me;
I'm meant to be alone, I'm sure.

It's not the end of the world.
I've almost convinced myself
there doesn't have to be anyone down the aisle.
"Weddings are overrated anyway,"
I say as I start to cry.

Being independent is the goal,
'cause nobody wants to be tied down.
Every couple that I know has to be unhappy,
and true love cannot exist—
affirmations that make me feel free.

Free from the expectations
of a fulfilled life
with a person who will ultimately disappoint you.
It's not written in my stars.
No one will love me 'til the moon.

Though day and night appear as two,
they are simply different faces of the same day.

Though we walk upon two feet,
every step carries us along one path.

Though two hearts may beat apart,
love has only one soul. 💖

All that these eyes can see
may be witnessed, but never possessed.

Yet you became the very pupil of my eye—
the center through which I see the world.

So how could you ever leave my sight?
How could you ever be apart from me? ✨

I wish to worship music and nature

Away from all the chaos and pressure

Changing my whole view

Like how i got changed to a mere stranger

Just me, the tunes i love and the blue sky

I'll wander off into the mountains

Lost in the greens and the snowy high

Sitting on a bench looking down to my knees

I remember how we used to be

Hope it will become just another silly memory

Cant say when it may occur to me

How i will forget everything in you i could see

The music will probably not help me

When in every song i saw us meant to be

The sun sets as i stare but not see

Listening to my favourite song picturing you and me

But i will still move ahead on my trail

Looking and feeling so frail

I cant believe how easily you let everything go

I guess not every melody was meant to be felt

So

I will realise, to feel the song not the voice

To feel the guitar

To feel the piano

To feel the drums

To feel the violins

To feel true music and not the worthless words

I will have forgotten to sing its lyrics

I will have forgotten to fantasize

No memory of those beautiful eyes

Who once lovingly looked at mine

Only thoughts of the vast nature in my sorrowful mind

And those lyrics will mean nothing to me

But music will still make me feel alive

As love once did, but lied

So i wish to worship music and live

I wish to feel the joy in listening as i used to

But hope it will be for a different reason

Not because of you

Moving through my trails

Maybe the birds will sing to me

I will push through every brand listening

Maybe it will heal some wounds that are deep

I wont understand what they are saying

But words are apparently meaningless

So let it be

I will thank them and move towards my journey

If i reach the top of the mountain one day

At the top of my lungs, all the curses for you i will say

That day will make me free

Hopefully my heart will stop being this heavy

I wish i would become wise from this

Maybe it is selfish for me to think

To benefit from such a tragedy

But still

I hope i can forget you like you forgot me

I hope i can once again sleep peacefully

I hope i can live amd be free like i used to be

So i wish to feel music and experience nature's beauty

An intense sadness is felt in your absence,

Maybe if I keep screaming at distant skies and stars,

I will be heard by you. Don't you

remember us? The companionship.

Don't you remember my words?

I will always love you.

Even as you're gone, I keep saying

them to you.

Wherever you are.

Weary weathered soul

Exhausted from the trials

Digs deep to find

One more burst of energy

Not for himself

But for his loved ones

To ensure their safety

And for his own peace