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Grief isn’t just sorrow - it’s a measure of how fully we’ve allowed ourselves to care. When someone or something matters to us, the temporary absence or inevitable change that comes with life creates a space for grief. But this space isn’t only for sadness; it’s also a place for reflection, gratitude, and growth. Grief reminds us of connection. It teaches us the value of moments and memories, and it deepens our capacity for empathy. Like seasons changing, grief flows naturally: it arrives, lingers, and eventually transforms. The heart learns to carry love and loss together, not as opposites, but as companions. In this way, grief isn’t a bitter consequence - it’s an essential marker of living fully. It tells us that we have loved, been present, and engaged with life in a meaningful way. And through that, even absence carries a quiet, enduring richness.

Our rings still sit on that fireplace like two ghosts that don’t know they’re dead yet. You we re my addiction, the kind that whispers sweet things while it’s breaking every bone in your soul. You said I was your one and only... but we know you are Jezebel. And when you were out there betraying me, I swear I could feel the weight of it in my chest before I ever found the proof. Still, I made it through. I don’t need you. But damn it felt like it at the time. When you’re on the edge, knuckles white, still holding on to things already gone - just let it go. I’ve walked through every mile of us, back and forth, trying to find the place we fell apart. And it burned. God, it burned. We built a home and set it on fire with your half-kept promises a nd silence . You s aid forever while you were kissing someone else before I’d even unpacked all the boxes. And you smiled through it, spoke sugar while hiding the blade. Pretty much a liar, but hope made me stay too long. For a while it was day by day. I went through the motions. Getting colder, getting tired of pretending I’m okay. Some nights I 'd drink, some nights I'd smoke, some nights I almost forget. But most nights I was just trying not to drown in everything you didn’t say. Put myself back together, one scar at a time. So, if you're still on that edge, holding on like there’s anything left to save - just let it go. I already did. Walked every damn mile in the night with your voice echoing behind me. It burned. It ached. But I’m free now. And all you’ve got is a lighter, and the ashes of a man who meant it. Let it go.

Passionate Kiss I loved her in prose, letting words flow freely across the page like an unstoppable sentence. I traced the shape of her body in word choice and held her soul in delicate phrases, every curve brought to life in poetry. My sentences kissed her thighs, tasting her innocence in the quiet pauses between lines. I pulled at her emotions, pressing the nib deeper with every thought, each stroke drawing her closer. She arched into the prose, her moans captured in the margins. All it took was the weight of a pen and the hunger to write her into eternity.