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Midnight confessions

At midnight hearts begin to speak, The strong grow fragile, lost, and weak. The silence opens every door, To hidden truths we can’t ignore. Midnight confessions softly fall, Like shadows dancing on the wall. The words we hide through all the day, Find moonlit courage on their way. “I miss you” sounds much more sincere, When only stars are left to hear. And broken souls stop wearing masks, Beneath the night that never asks. Perhaps the dark was always kind, A place where truth could breathe and shine. For hearts speak loudest after scars, In whispered talks beneath the stars.
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Passion - POEM

 Passion

It burns without asking,
a flame that never waits.
It dances through the silence,
crashing open locked gates.

It’s the quake beneath stillness,
the cry behind a kiss,
the pulse in the fingers
that tremble for bliss.

It isn’t always gentle—
sometimes it scars.
But it teaches the soul
to reach for the stars.

It’s in every heartbeat
that defies the cold,
a story of fire
that refuses to fold.

Not meant to be tamed,
not born to be mild—
passion is chaos
in the hands of a child.

A hunger, a whisper,
a storm, a start—
it’s not just a feeling—
it’s the art of the heart.



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