i want your midnights, faint light

I remember how much you love this trilogy, especially the last movie. One line that struck me the most was this.

"But if you want true love, then this is it."

You just can't turn off or shut down how you love someone. That's selfish, that's inhumane. When you love someone, you love them all throughout your life, you choose them over and over again, and you want to make things right with them, even if you already look stupid, delusional, or even crazy. No matter how much you want the best for them, to stop chasing one's shadow, to live a life as if admiring the sky and going towards their dreams is the best way to live, that isn't living at all. You're choosing to live your life as if it's on autopilot. Yes, we have both our lives to live but is it truly living if you deny yourself with being honest with yourself, from being with the one you see yourself with for many years to come?

Because I can't, and I won't. I choose to be honest and vulnerable with how I feel.

You choose someone, you love them with all that you can, and when you know you're sure of them, that no matter what the circumstance, that no matter how long it may be, you'll always have them in you. Days, weeks, months, and even years, you'll still be there. You can't just forget about everything and move forward as if things never happened, that what you felt during those moments weren't real. Then you are not alive.

Being truly alive and living it means being able to love someone so fully that it hurts, even if it means waiting for another lifetime to make things right, to meet again, because sometimes, living your life and chasing your dreams are two of the same things.

If for you it's already over, that this is some one night in Vienna that we showed all of our romanticism for just one night, then for me it isn't. This is reality, this is real life. I would choose to go back to that train station, standing in front of that platform every 6 months, hoping to see you, to possibly meet once again, and continue where we last left off.

I choose to live my life and chase my dreams with you in it because you are the dream I have been chasing all this time and the life I have or we've always wanted to have, together.

Still there.

Still there.

Still there?

The Seasons

The season closes like a slow exhale,

its breath heavy with the scent of fading leaves.

Everything that transpired feels like yesterday—

some moments full of hope,

others rotting quietly like fruit left too long on the vine.

And yet, like a phoenix,

I rise from the ashes of what I once believed unbreakable.

Acceptance was never easy,

and strength has always been a cost I paid in silence.

I used to think love could be mended

if only I stitched hard enough,

but two souls must share the same thread—

one cannot carry the whole tapestry alone,

not again.

When something ends, something begins.

To me, we were a story worth writing,

pages inked with quiet tenderness and ache.

But to life, to you, I was a mere chapter

filling empty paper for a time.

So let this ending be a correction,

a bloom that grows from loss.

May this parting bring you blossoms of desire and peace,

leaving behind one last kiss,

a signature at the bottom of a page

I never wanted to close.

Even as a writer, even as a poet,

I’ve learned all stories demand their finale.

So let me write one more poem, one more line,

to finalize my suffering.

I will plant my hopes and wishes for you

in the soil of your next season,

a new beginning, a new hope—

for you, and maybe for me as well.

The only difference is that you walk a different path

I tread the one we once shared, now alone.

I remain behind, wiser, yet still reaching.

So long, my dear starlight.

You will always be kept in my heart

that once sheltered your glow.

May fate keep you safe,

happy, at peace with the choices you make—

while I stay with the poets who go quietly,

laying their words like offerings

on the lakes where endings bloom louder in autumn.

Still there.

Still there.

Still there?

The Ebb and Flow

You ran like water—

gentle at first, a cool relief,

a river flowing through my chest,

filling every hollow space with life.

I watched you move,

swift and certain,

and though I could not hold you,

I dreamed of following your stream

to wherever it might end.

And I stayed like wine—

slow, patient, ripening in your absence.

Every drop of you I tasted

lingered long after you were gone,

a sweetness I carried like prayer,

a burn I welcomed in the quiet of night.

I thought perhaps the river would return,

curve back home,

that we could meet again

where stillness meets the tide.

But rivers don’t return—

they only run forward,

chasing seas that I cannot give.

And here I remain,

a bottle uncorked, left open to the air,

sweetness fading into bitterness,

aging in the silence you left behind.

You ran like water;

I stayed like wine.

And though the glass is empty now,

its stain remains—

a mark of what once filled me,