unlovable

on the third morning of mourning

on the third morning of mourning, grief sits quietly beside you—no longer loud, but lingering in the corners of a half-empty house. this poem traces the slow unfolding of loss, the tender moments between remembering and letting go, and the quiet hope that begins to breathe again through the cracks.

moving on

healing isn’t loud. it’s quiet, tender, and often unseen. this episode is a gentle reminder that moving on isn’t about forgetting; it’s about learning to live without the ache. it’s about the slow, steady return to yourself—the soft footsteps, the unspoken forgiveness, the laughter that no longer tastes like guilt. tune in for a reflection on what it truly means to heal, to release, and to finally make peace with the past.

unlovable

this episode is a quiet reckoning with the parts of ourselves we’ve been taught to hide. through tender words and raw honesty, i explore what it means to see the “unlovable” corners of our being—the laughter we mute, the tremors in our hands, the echoes between our ribs—and slowly invite them into the light. tune in and let these words hold you, the way i’m learning to hold myself.

august

a deeply nostalgic and bittersweet reflection on love, loss, and memory, this poem captures the aching beauty of august—the lingering presence of a love that didn’t last but never truly leaves. through vivid imagery of rain, stars, and fading seasons, it explores how some connections haunt us gently, like invisible constellations etched on skin, reminding us that love can live on quietly in the spaces between presence and absence.

sunsets, waves, and us

a tender meditation on love, longing, and self-worth, this piece draws parallels between sunsets, waves, and the human heart. it reflects on how we, like nature, crave to be seen and understood, yet reminds us that our value isn’t dependent on applause or attention. a poetic reminder that we are worthy—burning, crashing, rising, and fading—simply because we exist.