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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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In the field of roses - Poem

In the Field of Roses

I walked alone,
not searching—
just breathing,
just being.

The wind was quiet,
but the roses whispered
secrets I hadn’t asked for
and truths I had forgotten.

Each petal held a memory—
some I wished to keep,
others I let fall like
wilted promises in the dust.

The thorns didn’t scare me,
not anymore.
I had already learned
how to bleed beautifully.

I didn’t sit,
I didn’t run.
I simply stood,
as if the earth itself was holding me.

And in that stillness,
I remembered who I was
before the world told me to be
anything else.

The field didn’t need to bloom for me—
but it did anyway.
Quietly.
Kindly.
Like a friend
who never left.

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