18890
If I was to choose I would fall for you again. Coz you complete me In a way I can't describe.. For more poems join our channel
I didnโt know love could feel like motion. Not a still moment, but one that moves faster than fear, wider than regret. And for a moment, I stopped thinking
and just moved with you,into the water, into the sky,
into something real.
We laughed like the world was weightless, and I saw something ancient in your joy. And when your hand found mine, it wasnโt just fingers touching fingers.
It was everything I didnโt know I needed held gently, without explanation.
The way you glanced back to see if I was still smiling. The way you let joy lead your feet and chart our path. The way your spirit danced before your body did. This is how it begins.
Not with fireworks, but with bare feet, open hearts,
and the courage to be seen.
Heart and Mind
And the heart, my dear friend,
Is a very beautiful thing.
It doesnโt need eyes to see,
It was never meant to judge,
But only to feel.
It doesnโt ask why,
Doesnโt plan ahead.
It just beats in joy, in fear,
Even when it needs rest.
The ups and downs?
Thatโs life.
Messy, imperfect, real.
Only when the line goes flat
Does it end and so do you.
But the mindโ
The mind has eyes.
It sees the world,
And in seeing it doubts.
It complicates the simple beats of the heart,
Seeking perfection in things
The heart already knows won't last.
It chases perfection
Where none exists.
It wants to fix
What was meant to be felt.
It tries to quiet the heart,
To shrink it,
To make it safe.
It gets so lost in the end
That it forgets that endgame isn't this race.
But the heartโ
The heart was never meant
To be caged.
Itโs wild, it breaks, it heals.
And still, it beats.
Even when the mind says,
โThis is foolish.โ
Even when the world says,
โThis is weak.โ
Because the heart remembers
What the mind forgets,
You donโt need to see the whole road
To take one more step.
Let the mind think.
Let it doubt.
But never believe in its call
Because surviving
In those up and down beats,
Is known as life after all.
~ The Poetry Room
"I Am Tomorrow, What I Establish Today"
Your future self is watching you through memories. Make them proud, not disappointed.
I woke up this morning, a king in my head,
But my blanket said โnah, stay a peasant instead.โ
My dreams screamed โlegacy!โ, my stomach said โsnack,โ
And my mirror just laughed, gave ambition a smack.
I am tomorrow, what I establish today,
But I spent half the morning scrolling away.
One more meme, one more clip, one more viral thread,
And there goes my empire still built in my head.
I bought a notebook to plan my great rise,
Wrote โTo-Do List, Conquer,โ then promptly ate fries.
Productivity whispered, โGo hustle, young champ,โ
But Netflix replied with a seductive lamp.
Yet deep in my chest, a rebellion brews,
A voice that shouts louder than old excuse blues.
โYou want a great life? Then stop wasting your dawn!
Or your future selfโs broke, with a bad coupon.โ
So hereโs my confession, this truth I relay:
I am tomorrow, what I build up today.
Brick by brick, or meme by meme,
My castle will stand or just stay a dream.
Itโs funny, itโs harsh, but itโs also dead right,
Today shapes tomorrow, like day shapes the night.
So maybe Iโll startโฆ after one more delay,
โCause greatness begins on Monday, they say.
I stand in silence, love in hand,
Yet fear wraps tight like shifting sand.
My love for youโa steady flame,
It burns with passion none can tame.
But still a worry haunts my mind,
A quiet ache I cannot bind.
Afraid Iโm cast in a lonely tale,
A fleeting breeze, too soft, too frail.
Under the stillness of dark sky, I wonder:
Am I enough? Doing enough?
Am I soft where others daredโ
Too still, too slow, too deeply scared?
Do I fill your heart, or just your days?
Am I just a passing through,
A chapter closed before itโs due?
Your pastโa story I wasn't inโ
Still echoes loud beneath your skin.
You lived a life where love ran wild,
Louder names and dreams beguiled.
And here I am, heart raw and unsureโ
A quiet soul with a love so pure.
I don't drive fast or dine in gold,
But Iโd be the warmth when nights grow cold.
So still I ask with trembling grace:
Do I hold your heart or just your space?
---
~ The Modern Romeo.
17th Apr 2025
๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ข ๐ข๐๐ ๐๐๐๐, ๐ข๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ข
"๐ธ'๐ ๐๐ ๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐ ๐ธ ๐๐๐๐๐ ๐ข๐๐ ๐๐๐๐ ๐"
"๐ฐ ๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐ ๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ข ๐๐๐๐~"
"๐๐๐๐๐ ๐ข๐๐ ๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐ ๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐, ๐๐ ๐ข๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐?"
"๐๐๐๐ ๐ธ ๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐ข ๐๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐ ๐ข๐๐, ๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐ ๐๐ข๐๐๐๐"
"๐ฐ๐ ๐ธ ๐๐๐๐โ ๐๐ ๐ ๐๐๐ ๐ข๐๐ ๐๐๐"
"๐ธ๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐, ๐๐๐๐๐๐, ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ขโ ๐ธ ๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐ ๐๐ข ๐๐ ๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐"
"๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐ ๐๐โ ๐๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐"
"๐ท๐๐๐, ๐ธ ๐๐๐๐ ๐ข๐๐ ๐๐ ๐๐ข ๐๐๐๐๐. ๐๐ ๐๐ ๐๐ข ๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐"
"๐ธ ๐๐๐๐ ๐๐ ๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐ข ๐๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐ ๐ข๐๐๐๐"
"๐ธ ๐๐ ๐๐๐ ๐๐ข ๐๐๐๐๐, ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ ๐ ๐๐๐ ๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐..."
#๐ณ๐๐๐๐_๐๐๐๐๐๐
#๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐_๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐_
"Stranger"
To you,
Whom I've not met..
We still have to be there yet..
You're my moment, don't run away
For we still have some things to say
so you better hold yourself up and stay
for you're still my hopeful array
and I'll see you, if time may
may actually allow me to
To go to you..
To you,
Whom I've not met yet..
๐
#jar
Its okay to live a quiet life
Itโs the quiet moments that bring me joy-
The silent ones that slip by unnoticed,
like the soft clink of a spoon in a cup;
The gentle tap of raindrops on a window;
The faint flutter of pages flipping;
The sound of my breath rising and falling.
They donโt seek the spotlight. Yet,
they leave me in awe, in ways I canโt put into words.
Thereโs a beauty in the rise of the dawn.
The breeze playing with my hair, swaying it softly.
The sunโs kiss, tender and warm, settling on my face.
The birdsโ songs dancing through the air,
a soothing tune for my heart.
I close my eyes and let my arms open wide,
surrendering to the morningโs soft rhythm.
The pleasure of a slow cup of coffee,
the steam curling upwards like soft memories.
The weight of my favourite book in my hands,
the earthy smell of its pages filling the space around me.
These moments donโt shout,
but exist quietly, rich with meaning-
A secret only the quiet can understand.
The world may be fast and loud,
but I walk in these small spaces.
My feet pressed against the chill of the earth,
the rustle of leaves ringing melodiously.
With each soft step, I remember-
I donโt need fireworks or noise to know Iโm alive.
For in this stillness, I always find my truth.
Salt on the wound
At first, it hurt, the wound too raw,
like a jagged tear in velvet,
like a chisel mark on cold stone.
Memories linger, endless like a river,
with nights awake in solitude
and days spent in a mask of wholeness.
Salt poured into the tender flesh,
A blade twisted into the very core.
A sting that carried the shadows of the past,
Of battles that were lost,
Of words that were left unsaid,
Of silence that stayed, and
Of goodbyes that came too soon.
Yet in the ache, time weaved its magic.
What once seemed a curse sparked something,
something quiet,
slowโ
The wound began to change;
Resilience stitched with delicate strands.
Now, all that remains is a faint scar-
A mark that holds the echoes of pain.
A reminder that even the deepest of wounds
carry within them the seed of strength.
A scar thatโs no flaw, but
a chapter of the story etched into my skin.
A story not of defeat, but of quiet victory.
INK AND FIRE.
With this mighty pen, I'll slay,
I'll write away,
What's in my heart and headโ
I'll bare it all.
With it, my skin I'll puncture,
I'll gush and bleed on paper,
Pour myself out,
Washing my soul clean.
Through ink-stained expressions,
Storied with pain and sorrow,
Interwoven in deep trenches
Of tears, fears, and regret.
Yet with this mighty pen,
I'll respire to inspire,
Deconstruct and restore,
Create whole new canyons, bridging.
Worlds, hearts, and minds.
With rhyme and metaphors,
Alliteration, assonance, consonanceโ
Iโll weave symphonies from silence,
Etch echoes into eternity,
Forge rebellion in sonnets,
And whisper revolutions
Between the lines.
Each verse, a tempest,
Each stanza is a spark,
Kindling hearts, igniting thought,
Unveiling truth in the guise of art.
For with this mighty pen,
I do not merely writeโ
I bleed, I build, I burn,
And from the ashes, I'll create.
- The Modern Romeo.
27.03.2025
https://shorturl.at/CN4Qs
Eclipsed in Desire.
---
From dusk till dawn,
You'll be mine, my own, my all.
Under candlelightโs quivering glow,
Swathed in yearning, cloaked in longing,
A slow-burning fire erupts from within,
Like a volcano stirring beneath the earth.
Your whispersโsoft, sultryโ
Your touchโa spark, a searing flame
Ignite an inferno deep inside,
Breathless, weightless bodies entwined,
Lost in the abyss of the nightโs embrace.
Your lipsโsweet intoxication,
A wine I sip with ravenous thirst.
Drunk on fervour, on need, on insatiable craving,
No seconds to squander, no minutes to waste.
The air, thickโlaced with hunger,
A rhythm unspoken, a desire untamed.
Sighs like poetry, moans like melody,
Skin to skin, a fevered embrace.
Synchronized movements, urgent, slow,
No time, no spaceโjust ebb and flow.
The night stretchs and dawn creeps in
But we're still lost in the heat
For in your arms, i long to stay
Again and again, till morningโs light
Two souls consumed in endless delight.
~ The Modern Romeo.
25 Mar 25
โYou have your perspective, because you haven't tasted the fruit yet and can't decide weather it's sweet or bitter.โ
โAnd well I'll choose to have only one sweet fruit all my life rather than licking and biting the rotten ones in the search of the sweetest.โ
โAnd how will you know what's rotten from inside? Appearances are deceptive.โ
โBut at last I'll try to be the rightful one for that one fruit, and how it's tastes , I'll leave it on fate/god/luck.โ
โYou can give your best,but you can't expect the same coming for you.โ
But let's hope for good. After all we can't do anything except giving pseudo hope to ourselves.โ
~Zikra๐ฅ
When they ask me,
"Whatโs your deepest fear?"
I open my mouth,
But the words never come out.
How do I say it?
How do I admit that my fear isnโt a possibility,
But my reality?
That I am average,
That I have never been enough,
And maybe never will be?
I try but I fail,
Watch others rise,
Watch them shine,
While I remain
Stuck in a constant pain.
I tell myself to fight,
To push harder, to be more,
But the truth is, Iโm tired.
Tired of running in circles,
And still be in that same zone.
So I just smile,
A hollow, practiced thing,
And say something I donโt really fear.
Something easy, something light,
Because I always fail to declare
That I am already living my nightmare.
~ The Poetry Room
A Soldier's Time
Time ticks steady on a warrior's wrist,
A silent rhythm that can't be missed.
The digital glow marks moments passed,
Yet courage and duty hold steadfast.
Camouflage wraps the steadfast hand,
A symbol of strength where heroes stand.
The bracelet woven in colors bold,
Speaks of pride, a story told.
Black band tight, like a bond unbroken,
Each second passed is a promise spoken.
For in this frame, resolve is clear โ
A heart of steel, yet purpose sincere.
In the desert's dust or forest deep,
Time may race, but memories keep.
A soldier's path is never light,
Yet they march on โ from day to night.
The Butcher's Symphony
In shadows deep where darkness dwells,
A man of twisted, savage spells,
He finds his joy in crimson art,
With every beat of a breaking heart.
His eyes agleam with fevered light,
He hunts his prey in dead of night,
No mercy shown, no tear to shed,
He paints the town with hues of red.
The blade he holds, so keen and bright,
A lover's touch in silent night,
With skillful hand he peels the skin,
A macabre dance, his game begins.
Like peeling potatoes, soft and slow,
The flesh gives way, the blood does flow,
He keeps each strip, his trophies grim,
In gruesome collection, limbs grow thin.
He loves to lick the blood so sweet,
The taste of death his favorite treat,
A fountain spurts with every slice,
He drinks it in, a dark delight.
Blue bruises bloom with brutal grace,
Then painted red with fierce embrace,
Each mark a testament to pain,
A scarlet kiss, a bloody stain.
He takes an artery in hand,
And pulls it like a rubber band,
With fascination, eyes alight,
He pierces through, relishes the sight.
The veins he plucks with tender care,
A ghastly garland, foul and rare,
In each he sees a twisted toy,
A psychopath's unholy joy.
A living heart within his grasp,
He plays with it, a deathly clasp,
He feels its beat, its final thrum,
A melody of life undone.
He blows the lungs like childโs balloon,
Then bursts them with a forceful tune,
A symphony of agony,
His twisted, dark cacophony.
He plucks the eyes, those windows bright,
And rolls them like his marbles white,
A chilling game from days of yore,
Nostalgia steeped in blood and gore.
With every tear, with every shred,
He feels alive, though others dead,
A butcher's love, so dark, so deep,
In crimson pools his passions seep.
No hint of guilt, no whisper faint,
Just brutal joy in blood and taint,
He savors every anguished cry,
A monster cloaked in human guise.
His hands, they dance, his blade, it sings,
In horrid arcs, in violent swings,
Each slice a note in bloody hymn,
A requiem for severed limbs.
The lifeless forms, his dark delight,
He cherishes in dead of night,
A psychopath with savage grace,
In death's embrace he finds his place.
To watch the life drain from the eyes,
To hear the final, gasping sighs,
He basks in death's cold, sterile light,
A butcher's art, a killer's rite.
In darkness, he remains unseen,
A shadow on a bloody scene,
His twisted tale, a chilling lore,
Of death and blood forevermore.
With every kill, his heart beats strong,
A symphony, a butcher's song,
In silent night, where shadows fall,
He is the darkest force of all.
So heed this tale, this ghastly rhyme,
Of butcher's love, of heinous crime,
In every cut, in every scream,
He lives his nightmare, wakes his dream...
~N@$hh.....
*EARNEST*
Earnest time is , passing by ;
Death is earnest , drawing nigh ;
Lovers to yourself honest be ;
For sure heartbreakers and soul freezers appeal to thee .
Earnest love is , it's affection take ;
Yes indeed broken seasons has passed away , no time to fake ;
No maheu but your buttocks for only your man shake ;
My dear life is earnest, when it's over ;
Indeed returns never .
Sick of sadness no longer be , for your man smile and flee ;
Joy and peace , waits for thee ;
In your eyes , let him see more stars than the stars in the sky ;
To him yourself submit free , free to fly continentary no shy .
Done by *RoKay*
"Someone once asked me,
'Why do you listen to reggae always?'
And I paused...
Because, how do you explain a sound that lifts your spirit when the world pulls you down?
How do you explain music that feels like truth, like love, like home?
I told them โ
'Let me show you.
Listen closely, read attentively.
https://artatheartinklings.wordpress.com/2025/04/29/reggaeeee/
โPalace of Thornsโ
They call it a palaceโmy lifeโ
gilded in gold, draped in silks,
where chandeliers sparkle like smiles
and the walls echo laughter not mine.
But beneath the velvet curtains
lies the bruise of silence,
a scream stitched shut with silver thread.
The hand that feeds wears ringsโ
diamond-tipped daggers cloaked in affection,
offering bread soaked in venom,
each bite a betrayal masked as care.
It builds me up in marble grace,
then chisels away my soul
with every whispered "I'm proud of you."
I am the sculptor of dreams they parade,
the architect of their towering pride,
yet my fingers bleed in the shadows,
amputated from applause.
Like the slaves who carved cathedrals
and were buried beneath their glory,
I too am entombed in perfection.
They say, โYou have it all.โ
Yes, all but the warmth.
I sleep in a golden cradle
that rocks on cold stone floors.
Love is but a painting on these wallsโ
framed, admired,
never felt.
This house of mirrors reflects only masks,
and Iโjust another cracked reflectionโ
smile like I'm stitched to the seams,
while my heart writes elegies in secret.
For what is comfort without care,
a throne without touch,
when the hand that feeds
is the hand that killsโ
slowly,
smiling,
saying โI love youโ
through clenched teeth?
~ Ritika
Breath, Scars, and Silence
My skin is not smoothโ
It is a landscape,
creased and calloused,
folded like a well-travelled map.
The curve of my neck cradles the sun,
even when the skies are grey.
This scar on my knee
is where I learned gravity.
They remember kneeling for answers,
and bruising against silence.
The faded marks on my wristโ
are the memories I stopped trying to erase.
My shoulder holds the weight
of unsent letters, of unkept vows,
of people whose ghosts Iโve kept
long after they walked away.
Ferns unfurl behind my ribs,
and roots tangle in the hum of my heart.
Saltwater collects in my throat,
swallowed like a secret I refuse to speak.
It floats between the tightness of my chest,
weighing heavy with the unspoken,
with everything I couldnโt say,
and the silence that remains.
The curve of my hip sways
to a melody only silence can sing.
The arch of my foot,
like a compass,
knows the escape routes
without any need for directions.
I am stitched together,
by paths I never took,
oceans I had no choice but to cross,
mountains I was lifted to
and, somewhere along the way
learned to call them home.
Maps arenโt always drawn with ink.
Some are stitched with breath and scars.
Donโt ask me where I come fromโ
Ask me where I've been.
Touch my shoulder,
and Iโll show you a road only my skin knows.
"It's the great mystery of
human life that old grief
passes gradually into quiet
tender joy. The mild serenity
of age takes the place of the
riotous blood of youth."
๐The Brothers Karamazov
-Fyodor Dostoyevsky
Beneath the trees, the sunlight spills,
Two souls in stride, the world stands still.
A hoodie, cap, and gentle grinโ
A spark where every stepโs a win.
Her jacket bright, a letter bold,
With stories that have yet been told.
Their laughter floats, a calm refrain,
Like summer wind after the rain.
Their eyes meet in a quiet dance,
A moment stitched by chanceโor chance?
No need for maps or spoken lines,
Their hearts align like subtle signs.
Just two young lives, the road ahead,
With dreams and thoughts still softly said.
But here, right now, they walk as oneโ
A tale of friendship just begun.
Easy, Not Easy
They say,
"Just be yourself."
Easy.
But not easy when yourself is tired, broke, and late for rentโagain.
They say,
"Speak your truth."
Easy.
But not easy when your truth sounds like conspiracy,
or worse... common sense.
They say,
"Vote wisely."
Easy.
But not easy when wisdom hides behind slogans
and campaign posters lie smoother than butter on a hustlerโs toast.
They say,
"Stay positive."
Easy.
But not easy when fuel is 200 bob a litre
and the boda guy just shouted at you for breathing too confidently.
They say,
"Think deep."
Easy.
But not easy when your thoughts keep swimming in shallow bills,
and your mind is like a Wi-Fi signal unstable and buffering.
They say,
"Follow your dreams."
Easy.
But not easy when your dream wants Wi-Fi, confidence, and rent money
while you just want a nap and chapati.
They say,
"Donโt be lazy."
Easy.
But not easy when your boss thinks youโre AI,
and Monday thinks it's Godzilla in heels.
They say,
"Change begins with you."
Easy.
But not easy when "you" just want to change out of these problems
and maybe get some change for a soda.
They say,
"Love your neighbor."
Easy.
But not easy when your neighbor is playing Odi dance at 3am
and your wall is thinner than their patience.
But hey
We laugh,
We rise,
We send memes as medicine,
We vote, we hope, we hustle hard
with philosophies in our pockets and politics on our tongues.
Because life?
Itโs easy.
But not easy.
And somehow, weโre still doing it anyway.
We Will Not Kneel
---------------
They strike us down in daylightโs glare,
spewing bullets with reckless abandon.
Bodies lie motionless on the tarmacโ
as if silence can be bought with fear.
But we are a raging storm, a rising tide,
voices they cannot erase.
They wield power like a weapon,
a dark cloud looming over us.
Cold and cruel, hearts made of stone,
but here, we make our stand.
We will not be bought nor swayedโ
we will fight, for our freedom, our rights,
for the accountability owed to us.
Democracy against tyranny.
By our voices, by the bullet, by the gun,
by the blood of those taken,
we will stand where cowards crumble.
We will fight until the shackles breakโ
for a people awakened will not kneel.
We will etch our defiance in fire.
Let justice be our shield and defender.
We are the people, we are the pulseโ
and we will never back down again.
~ The Modern Romeo.
4th Apr 025
We Will Not Kneel
---------------
They strike us down in daylightโs glare,
spewing bullets with reckless abandon.
Bodies lie motionless on the tarmacโ
as if silence can be bought with fear.
But we are a raging storm, a rising tide,
voices they cannot erase.
They wield power like a weapon,
a dark cloud looming over us.
Cold and cruel, hearts made of stone,
but here, we make our stand.
We will not be bought nor swayedโ
we will fight, for our freedom, our rights,
for the accountability owed to us.
Democracy against tyranny.
By our voices, by the bullet, by the gun,
by the blood of those taken,
we will stand where cowards crumble.
We will fight until the shackles breakโ
for a people awakened will not kneel.
We will etch our defiance in fire.
Let justice be our shield and defender.
We are the people, we are the pulseโ
and we will never back down again.
~ The Modern Romeo.
4th Apr 025
DEAR FUTURE ME
Hey future me, are you listening ?
Am I still in you or do you miss me ?
I'm on a crossroad, I need you here,
I'll choose the wrong road, I fear.
The uncertainties are freaking me out,
I feel insane and I just wanna shout,
Can't grasp these endless possibilities,
I wish to stop questioning my abilities.
So if I knock on your door, would you let me in?
Would you show me the things I craved to win?
I almost stopped dreaming due to unachieved credential,
Are you familiar with always self-doubting your potential ?
You were here, you went through this too,
But for me, it feels so out of blue,
Horns are loud and signals indistinctable,
The pedals to press feel too unpredictable.
So please guide me, say that I'll be fine,
Light the path and I'll walk your line,
Reveal to me what kept you going
Sing me the song and I'll keep on rowing.
Where did you go? What did you seek ?
Were you lucky to get a future sneak-peek?
Or were you alone? Were you struggling ?
Did you find the answers in your upbringing?
I'm super curious and very unstable,
Tell me that we ARE capable,
Show me the victory and the mistake,
Would you go back to rewrite and remake?
Please tell me it's worth the wait
That I haven't yet sealed my fate;
I hope we make it, I hope I survive
Or am I still searching, trying to thrive?
In your eyes, was I ever enough ?
Did I break or did I learn to be tough ?
If by a mircale, my pleas ever reach thee,
Would you whisper back the answers to me?
~inks_and_dots
Love Eternal.
I'm crazy over you,
Entangled with dreams of being yours
Encompassed with throes yet to be,
A whisper in the wind
A fire that never wanes
I long to be the Lancelot to your guinevere
Defying odds and crowns, forsaking all
For a love that transverses through time
Yet never dares to fall
The romeo to your Juliet
Not a tale of sorrowed woe
But one where love outlives the grave
Where time halts to let us grow.
The Antony to your Cleopatra,
Bound by fate, defying the universe
Even if the heavens conspire
I promise to love you through the wars.
I'm crazy over you
More than words could dare to prove
No legend shall tell our love complete
For only we'll define it's truth.
- Modern Romeo
https://artatheartinklings.wordpress.com/2025/03/23/love-eternal/
Two Calls, One Heartbeat
Two voices echoed down the line,
Familiar tones I once called mine.
Two hearts that danced in different days,
Now stirring memories in tangled ways.
The first, a smile wrapped in warm regret,
Soft laughter laced with things unsaid.
She asked how life had been since then,
A gentle ghost still calling me "friend."
The second call โ oh, sharper still โ
A fire that flickered yet refused to chill.
Her words were bold, her voice held pride,
Yet something softer lingered inside.
Two calls, yet both held common ground โ
Not love rekindled, nor bridges burned down.
Just whispers of what we used to be,
Fragments of love now drifting free.
I smiled, I sighed, I held on tight
To memories that softened the night.
For love may fade, but it never quite dies โ
It lingers in echoes, in voices, in sighs.
It Felt So Good to Be a Kid, Didnโt It?
Back then, time was slow.
Afternoons stretched forever,
and the biggest worry was choosing
between hide-and-seek or one last round of tag.
Scraped knees were proof of adventure,
tears dried before they even touched the ground.
Losing never felt like failureโ
tomorrow was always a second chance.
Then, we grew up.
Now, the days blur into each other.
Mornings start with alarms that ring too soon,
afternoons disappear in deadlines and to-do lists,
and nights are borrowed hours,
spent catching up on things we never really finish.
Laughter is quieter,
buried beneath unread messages,
half-written assignments,
and the weight of everything we donโt say.
Books pile up like unfinished dreams.
Sleep is a luxury we bargain with.
Success feels like a moving target,
happiness like something we have to earn.
No one prepared us for thisโ
for the weight of invisible expectations,
for the pressure of always being โenough,โ
for the fear of falling behind
in a race we never agreed to run.
Some nights, we wish we could go backโ
to when happiness was effortless,
when rest didnโt come with guilt,
when life wasnโt measured in deadlines,
missed calls, and silent regrets.
But maybe growing up
isnโt just about pushing forward.
Maybe itโs about knowing
when to stop,
when to breathe,
when to let ourselves just exist.
And maybe, just maybe,
the world will wait for us.
~Thoughtless
Brick by Brick
I know what itโs likeโ
to sit alone with your thoughts,
staring at the ceiling at 2 AM,
telling yourself, Tomorrow, Iโll be better.
Then waking up,
falling into the same old patterns,
the undone to-do lists,
the endless scrolling,
the quiet guilt of another lost day.
I know what itโs like to feel stuck,
as if life is running ahead
while youโre still tying your shoes.
To feel fear whisper in your ear,
What if you never change?
What if youโre always this version of yourself?
To feel the weight of regret,
the memories pressing against your chest,
all the things you should have done,
the words you should have said.
But I also know what itโs like
to feel a spark of hopeโ
a tiny ember refusing to die,
a whisper that says, Maybe today will be different.
I know the warmth of love,
the way it fills the cracks of your soul
even when you feel unworthy of it.
I know the joy of laughter,
how it echoes through a crowded room,
how a simple sunset
can make the world feel lighter.
And I know that life is not just about the highs.
It is also about the nights when you feel lonely
in a room full of people.
The days when you feel lost in your own skin.
But tell me thisโ
what if change isnโt a switch you flip,
but a wall you buildโone small brick at a time?
What if every moment of doubt,
every tear, every regret,
every tiny victory,
is another piece of the foundation?
What if change is already unfolding,
in the quiet moments when no one is watching?
What if youโre already becoming something more,
just by wanting to?
~Thoughtless
Only amateurs hate Monday.
True professionals hate the entire work weak
WHEN I DIE
When I die
Tell mama
I gave life all I got,
Tell mama
I was ready to make her
A proud mother.
When I die,
Don't bother crying
If all what you did
Is make me cry,
Don't show up
When you never showed up
Whenever I reached out.
To you who has my piece,
When I die forget about me,
If what was there was fake
Don't preserve memories.
When I die
Don't say you knew me
If all what you did
was use me,
Was push me away
After trying to solve our differences.
When I die
Tell Mama she was one in a million,
And that I love her and treasure her.
@S.I.M(Leibling โค๏ธ)
ยฉ Sharon Immaculate