The Doors of Forever
The wedding aisle stretches before you. Family and friends stare at you as a hush hangs in the air. Answer truthfully. Don’t let euphoria blind you in this decision.
The wedding aisle stretches before you. Family and friends stare at you as a hush hangs in the air. Answer truthfully. Don’t let euphoria blind you in this decision.
By moonlight’s silver hush, your words glow across the glass, and my thoughts drift toward you like tides pulled by a familiar star.
I felt it the moment I walked in: the distortion in the air, a heaviness thick with unhappiness, leaking from the people. Whatever light I carried began to drain.
Bones creak like century-old floorboards and in that hush between alarms, the room holds its breath.
Golden bulbs sway softly over white-linen tables, casting halos on steam, while outside, the rain keeps time.
Between rest and routine, closeness and distance; a short love poem about the warmth that stays on your skin long after the morning goodbye.
A quiet confrontation with the life you’ve settled for, and the moment you realize the choice was always yours.
When love is wounded by the one meant to protect it, and the long silence that follows.
The future you are walking toward right now. One step at a time, whether you feel ready or not.
A reflection on how our lives quietly shape one another. And the volumes we leave behind without knowing.