I thought it was something did happen just once. January this year I wrote a poem. After I finished writing it and read it through. I had to read it again. Because I could not help to feel like it sounding something that I could imagine one of my character to write. It sounded too much belonging to my character and her feelings about another character in my story world.

I won’t ask why? Just let this love die. It’s too late. What could have been? Won’t ever be. Sometimes love just isn’t enough. No matter how hard one tries. It’s not worth this pain anymore. No more tears. Nothing left to save. You didn’t say anything. But the silence told me all. I won’t waste time.

Why would anyone want to take a chance with fall in love nowadays? When love seems to only lead into things. That should never be called love. The cruel games some play with other’s hearts. While they love while it hurts and even beyond that. When their hearts break and bleed. Only to apologizing the mess. While person holding the knife will never.

You are one of those people. That other people tolerate. Only to hang out with someone else. Because they can’t spend time with that person. Without you being in there. But you don’t understand this. I’m not sure if you even see it. How most people are saying hello and goodbye. And ignore you between the two. Like you ain’t even in the room. They ain’t cruel. You did this yourself. Being the rude one.

She had thought her heart had burned into ashes. Long time ago. That there was nothing left but ashes. Of ruins that used to be a loving heart. That love had gone bad. Had burned it into the ground. But what she didn’t know there still embers left. In those ashes. It wasn’t until him. The one she should have not fall for.

I left you to drink. Your own poison all alone. I had enough of it. Now it’s your turn. Enjoy my dear. Don’t look at me like that. So shocked. Like I said something wrong. I’m just repeating your own words. Back to you. What?! Is there something wrong with it?! Isn’t it a nice feeling?

For all my wonderful subscribers and readers. This year I was so busy with my other writings that I had not as much time coming up with as many things for the Valentine's Day I originally had planned to do. There is two special poems that will be posted later today. One is a love poem about falling in love after been burned by love called From embers to fire.

She is done with feeling longing. And pining after. For someone who never truly cared. That was never there for her. When she would have needed someone. But she should have needed to be there for him. No matter what. She finally had enough. Being stuck with a hypocrite. Who was not even a half a man he thought he was.

First time actually writing several child characters in a story. This is something new and will be fun to have few side characters that are kids. Especially since this part is set so much before the first book series that these kids are all grown up by then. So now I will have to find out what these characters will be when they are grown up. Will they follow footsteps of their family members and other adults around them?

You would like to go back yesterday’s memories. But that won’t be possible. Because what you did. Broke the version of us that used to be. Showing your true colors. The betrayal was too big. Try to erasing it just a little mistake. That meant nothing. When it destroyed everything.

Here you are. Yet again you are trying to paint yourself as victim. Again… Because it has worked so well for you in the past. But this time it wasn’t going the way. You thought it would. Unlike the past. People didn’t believe this false victim image. You tried so hard to paint yourself in. Instead people buying tickets for your pity party. You end up selling tickets to your downfall. That you had painted while playing a false victim.

I guess you really did it this time. Who said that this was a good idea? Taking denying your lies this far. Trying to cover what you did. Things you choose to do. You made those choices sober while knowing how wrong they were. Instead taking an accountability. Face the consequences of your own choices and actions.

If painting it black was meant to be the fix. Why you were always in such a hurry to wash your hands? If it was supposed to be a good thing. A new start for a new day. Fresh coat of paint. The fix for everything. Like you kept saying. Why the black paint splatters did bother you so much? Or did you knew. That what it actually was.

Meet me at midnight. That was all your message had said. And I knew precisely where you were waiting for me. Like always you were there already. Waiting because I never needed to wait for you. Why it is that meeting you is always like sneaking out? Doing something I shouldn’t. Yet here I am every time. Meeting the original bad boy. Like it ain’t a bad idea.

Looking at the people who have been killed in Iran already. And those who are in danger of execution. Seeing how young so many are. There is so many students, athletes, musicians, even doctors... The list is never ending of how talented these people who were killed or now are about to be executed. Like only 20 years old Setayesh Shafiei she was a writer. She signed her writings as "Khorshid" (Sun) had named her Telegram channel "The Girl Who Was The Sun".

Here we are again. On this edge of madness. Like thousand times before. One more step and you’re over the edge. And this time I can’t stop you. I don’t even know how many times. I talk you out of it. Yet you were the one who was always. Trying to push me down from it. And you enjoyed seeing me almost falling down.

Another quick little writing tip. There is nothing new with me getting idea for a new part for my story world. But this time I got more ideas with how the storyline could go with the two new parts. And usually when I get couple different ideas how the storyline could go.

Spending another sleepless night wandering. Because my mind won’t let me sleep. What you did I can’t forget. Nor forgive. I thought I could but… I guess it’s a time to face the writing on the wall. I’m out of excuses. Tired of try to take what is now broken. And somehow make it right. But it won’t ever be right or unbroken again. It just stays broken and wrong.

Don’t ever go back what you know. Just because you know it. And you’re so used it. Because it’s easier suffer with the same old misery. Than take risk with something new. You know what it is. How unhappy you are. Only good moments are either short or far apart. Or only memories. Of time that won’t ever return.

I never thought I would hear it again. That there would never be a day. That my broken heart would be singing. But because of you. Sounds like my heart is singing… again. Like it had found the voice of the poet. That had been lost so long. After being hurt and broken. Left to die. It’s coming back alive.

Balancing on the line between sanity and survival. While living on edge of madness. Breaking apart once again. With no one to turn to. Back full of knives. From the one I loved. Knowing that I’m close to the edge. How everyday I’m slipping further. Losing pieces of myself. Thinking I won’t ever get them back. While fading away. Fearing there is soon nothing left of me.

Being in that relationship. Meant that I only end up trying to chase reality. On the place that would never know it. Not even the meaning of the word reality. Because at the edge of madness there is no reality. It’s not the place it could be ever found. What I found instead was not good. And when I finally saw the ugly truth. It was too late. I was already too close to the edge.

Is this finally the end of all the endings? Is it finally over for the last time. No going back. No more lies. And how it meant nothing… yet again… No more listening empty words. Stuck with broken promises. Is this the great escape? The prison break from this toxic love story. That should had been history For long time ago. But I guess it’s better late than never.

I never thought that I would say this. But for me this silence. Is better than another bad lie from you. I’m so tired of your lies. Now I’m thankful I don’t need to hear them anymore. Especially the bad ones that we both knew were lies. Yet pretended they weren’t. It was already at the point. Where neither one of us had no more energy left for a fight. It would have been pointless call you out.

It must be nice to play the “victim”. On the things you caused yourself. All of this mess you’re in now. Is only because you. So go ahead play the victim. Tell your lies. Cry your fake tears to camera. Repeating your false story. Because without it. Would only expose the ugly truth. About, who you truly are as a person. Everything you so desperately try to hide.