Poetry

Respect is the highest form of love...

Chasing Butterflies

Tell me,
How can I catch a butterfly
When the roots of the Baobab tree are wrapped firmly around my feet
Anchors to a desolate land
Arid, but well travelled
The butterflies flutter and hover
Majestic and out of reach.

You could be someone's best choice or first choice.

Or neither.

The Price of an Open Heart
©oviology1

What did I do?
What was my crime?
I carried no sword,
Only a pulse
That wished to be heard.

What did I seek?
No throne.
No riches.
No worship.
Only love.

A gaze
That lingered kindly.
A voice
That felt like home.
A silence
Without fear.

Yet the world
Read softness
As surrender,
And innocence
As invitation.

I offered palms.
You answered
With thorns.

I offered trust.
You returned
With stones.

How strange
That the gentlest hearts
Often inherit
The heaviest wounds.

Those who ask
For kingdoms
May lose them.

Those who ask
Only for love
Are too often
Taught loneliness.

Perhaps this is
The oldest tragedy:

The innocent
Do not suffer
Because they loved wrongly

They suffer
Because they believed
The world desired
What they desired.

Still,

Even after bleeding,
The heart remembers
Its first language:

Not revenge.

But love.

Penning the whispers of my heart .. It’s all wonderfully insane ~♡
♡~أَكتبُ ما يُفكرُ فيهِ قلبي

Not many could find the way to a stubborn heart.
Yet I led you to the path.
Not everyone could make it beat faster,
Yet I almost led you to the core.
Why is my selfish heart still remembering you, only to let every words you inked, vanish?

Maybe I’m just hard to love and easy to leave.

A wife is like a rose.
A rose does not bloom because it rests in a beautiful vase—it blooms because it is watered with care. Likewise, a wife needs more than clothes and comforts. She blossoms through your time, your love, your loyalty, and your gentle presence. For love, not gifts, is what keeps her heart in bloom.

(My Own Quote)

The right love never needs to be forced." ❤️

_ Dear stranger,

It’s been months since I’ve written you probably longer.
I mistook you once in face that wore your disguise.I truly believed I had met you. In crowded rooms, in quiet corners
where the world went silent, in the way he laughed at the corny jokes I only made for you, or how he lingered too long as if it might be our last goodbye maybe I should’ve taken that as a sign. But each time the illusion unraveled, like a name on the tip of my tongue that never quite arrives. I wonder if you are still out there, moving through the same world,unaware of how often I’ve almost found you. Or maybe you’ve passed me already once, twice and I was the one wearing the disguise. Until then, I’ll keep writing into the silence, folding these words into the space where you might someday be.

Yours,
almost._