Love was never a heartbeat. It was the echo left behind after the heart forgot why it was still beating. It arrived wearing another person's face, its hands stitched together from promises that had already begun to rot. I welcomed it. Not because it was kind, but because loneliness knows how to mistake a wolf for warmth. Every smile it offered cast a longer shadow. Every whispered "forever" fed another ghost sleeping beneath my ribs. The thought of love is a clever liar. It builds cathedrals from broken mirrors, then asks us to kneel before our own reflections, calling the illusion destiny. How eagerly we obey. We water flowers that grow from graves, write poems to people who never truly existed, and embrace memories still unborn. Love watches. Silent. Patient. Like a spider waiting in the center of a web woven from hope. It never forces us inside. It simply lets us believe the silver threads are rays of morning light. By the time we understand, the sky has forgotten our ...
Life starts without anything no riches, no fame, no story to tell. You arrive quietly like morning with nothing but air around you. You have nothing in your hands no land to call yours a new beginning, a moment of birth. The world is big a road you have not walked You walk it like it is yours. You collect things, chase goals you want more you measure how good you are by what you have. You fill rooms with stuff put your name on things but all the things you have are not really yours. Time moves slowly quickly it takes things you love changes what you know and leaves you wondering what is still real. You run after what you want you hold on tight you work hard you try to be better. But the road keeps turning it never stays still All the things you have will go away. In the end there is quiet a breath, no money in your pocket no prize to win. Just memories of moments of love and pain like footprints washed away by rain. You leave like you came, no less no titles to carry no need for things...