#captured thoughts

They say it’s better to have loved and lost

Than never to have loved at all.

But I’ve loved and loved, and counted the cost,

And each time I’m left to fall.

How could this be better—

This ache that stays and stays?

To taste of honey, then be severed

By the same mouth, again and again?

Am I cursed, then?

To be the flame that draws them close,

“Wifeable,” they say, like a whispered benediction,

Only to let me go once I let my guard down.

Dropped like a coal too hot to hold

The moment I start to believe.

Am I cursed to never be enough?

To be chosen, then unchosen,

Held, then set down gently but finally?

I don’t know.

But if love keeps finding me,

Even when it leaves,

Maybe I’m not the one who’s broken.

Maybe I’m the one still willing to stay open.

And if that’s true—

Then somewhere, there is a love that won’t let go.

A love that stays after the falling stops.

A love that calls it home.

Will I find it?

I don’t know.

But the fact I'm still asking

Imām Ibn al-Jawzī رَحِمَهُ ٱللَّٰهُ said:

“It is a must for each cautious and intelligent person to gather the supplies needed before his departure [from this life].

For he never knows when his hour of death will strike or know when his soul will be called back!”

Be kind to those who are unkind to you, accomplish your affairs in secrecy and make people your acquaintances and not your friends.

Where wilted roses bleed cold ink,

I wander the cracked cobbles of Duras,

A city draped in mourning lace and ash.

The sky, a bruised velvet tapestry,

Weeps violet rain that never touches ground—

It drips into the void, a silent choir,

Echoing my hollowed heart’s refrain.

I am tired, the moon‑worn lantern whispers,

The stars have folded like wilted pages,

Hope, a moth with torn wings, has fled,

Leaving only shadows to converse.

No ember glows within my chest,

Just a cavern of dust‑kissed sighs,

Where once the wind sang Aetherial Hymns,

Now only the wind howls “Defeat.”

Yet in the gloom, a lone fern unfurls—

A sprig of midnight moss, stubborn, bright—

It dares to drink the sorrow‑rain,

And turns each tear to glimmering sapphire.

Perhaps the world is a cracked mirror,

And every shard reflects a fragment lost,

If I gather them, piece by trembling piece,

Might I stitch a new constellation;

One that bears the weight of my weariness,

Yet still glows with the faintest ember.

Until then, I linger in the hush,

Wrapped in velvet night’s tender shroud,

Listening for the soft, impossible whisper:

A delicate balance, a careful stride

Walking on eggshells, side by side

I give my all, expect so little back

Yet still, I'm left holding the flack

I'm a puzzle piece that doesn't quite fit

A whispered secret, a silent hit

I try to meet your unspoken test

But fail, again and again, I'm not the best

My heart beats fast, with anxious care

Expecting nothing, yet hoping still

But the silence screams, the emptiness echoes

A hollow space, where hope once seeped

Perhaps it's not about the pain we share

But the weight of expectation, the weight we bear

I yearn for understanding, a gentle hand

I'm terrified at how serious the numbers are starting to look

I feel ashamed that I don't have anything to gift myself this year - it's become a ritual of sorts - I always get myself something as a reward for completing another year, for pushing through my struggles against all odds.

The year, it seems that the odds have remained stacked up until the very end. I'm not quite at rock bottom, but it's not far off. Close enough to be afraid of hitting it at any second, close enough to see how much I can rise... If I'm lucky.

What will it be?