In the whispers of “here,” there lies a symphony of belonging, an echo of warmth that transcends the boundaries of place. It’s not just the coordinates on a map that define home, but the gentle intertwining of hands, the embrace of souls that make a space sacred. Here is a melody, a harmony woven by the hearts of those who see you as the loveliest thing, yet never seek to confine your spirit. Time becomes a tender dance, a series of lyrical pauses where “here” becomes a person, a memory, a song that lingers in the air. Across vast oceans, … Continue reading Here

In the corners of my soul, love once dwelled, a fragile presence, a tender whisper that left me too exposed, too vulnerable. It was a delicate dance, a hesitant embrace, an admission of the wildflowers that bloomed within my very being. But love, for most, was this frail, unseemly way of existing, a state that rendered me too open, too sincere about the secrets nestled in my bones, too fluid, too susceptible to the fires of passion. And so, I learned to apologize for love. I sat on my hands, restraining their longing to reach out. I curled up my … Continue reading … and love for most of them, was this weak ugly way of being.