I'm more than honored to have my poem in @PoetryRough"s new anthology, Poems for Protest. 🤲🤲🤲🤲 #poem #WritingCommunity

Because we are human enough, we break—and in breaking, we become transparent enough to let the light finally pass through. #POEMS #poetry #WritingCommunity

Sometimes, healing means learning to live with the fracture, and not fixing it.

Life of a man.

My first love left a note on the wall — written in steam, But the note vanished before I could read the last line. #poetrycommunity #poem #WritingCommunity

It’s okay to gatekeep yourself. People are not genuine.

Some of us have learnt to struggle in silence so others think we don't struggle at all and should be available at all times

What if – when you needed me I was struggling too?

Nights stretch longer than days. I trace the outline of my solitude the way I once traced the spikes of your spine. Some mornings, the mirror holds me gently, as if to say I survived my own burning. And I whisper back Saying : not yet, but I’m learning. #poetry #writing

THE QUIET AFTER LOVE Our house stood still when you left. Our bed was a field after battle. Each room had a stench of a ghost town. I thought divorce would feel like – release, but it feels like drowning in deep waters. It feels like learning my own name in another tongue.

Grief has stripped me clean. But what remains is not empty— It is raw, unshaped — A self I am still daring to believe in. And somewhere, beyond this breaking, a new tenderness waits— small, trembling... But mine. #poem #poetry #writerscommunity

#poetry #WritingCommunity #authors #writing

I wrestle with shadows that wear my face, their whispers bloom like bruises beneath my skin, and every breath I take feels borrowed from the dark. #poem #poetry #writerslift

I walk through my own ruins, gathering light like broken glass. The wind stitches my scars with whispers of mercy. Beneath the ash, a pulse—soft as dawn—remembers its name. I drink from silence, and it tastes like the first breath after drowning. #poetry #healing #authors

https://t.co/wWARSM4E7Q

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Where will you be in the next 50 years?

https://t.co/n3Qbu9L5xQ

I’d rather struggle than let someone help me and throw it in my face later on.

You have been carrying storms in your chest, silent tempests no one else can hear. Your bones have become the scaffolding for a collapsing house, #poem