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Where Calm Feels Like Home

  Where Calm Feels Like Home He doesn’t speak over me, he listens— like my words matter even when they tremble. There’s patience in his pauses, kindness stitched into his silences, and responsibility sitting quietly in the way he shows up—every time. He does things before I even realize I needed them, as if my expectations live somewhere in his instincts. A heart that’s gentle, not weak— just brave enough to care deeply. He remembers me in ways people usually forget— my moods, my chaos, the unsaid between sentences. Sometimes I think         he’s lost in my thoughts, but really, he just understands me without making it a performance. There’s effort in him, consistent, calm, unquestioned— not for validation, but because that’s just who he is. And his eyes— soft like they know something holy, sweet like they’ve chosen peace over noise. The way he approaches life, and me— so effortless, it feels divine, like s...
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Dew on Forgotten Ink

 Dew on Forgotten Ink


Who am I? A question unspoken,
A book on a shelf, with stories unbroken.
All my pages are full, but my book is never read,
I have a beautiful cover, but heartaches to hold instead.

Am I a burden, a burden to see?
I just exist and never be me.
Who am I? Am I lost, or just asleep?
Why can't my words be heard, my heart keep?

Why am I alone, with no one to share?

Why have my dreams died? That's a question I bear.
Every time I cry, I feel myself fade,
I'm a book with pages that have all dried, a heart that's jaded.

In the silence, I search for my voice,
A whispered echo, a heartfelt choice.
I yearn to be opened, to be set free,
To share my tales, my soul's destiny.

But the shelf is long, and I'm just one more,
A forgotten story, forever in store.
Still, I hold on to hope, a glimmer of light,
That someday, someone will read through the night.


-Wonderlyf

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