Friendship weaves a fabric of unseen threads,
binding hearts across distance, across time.
Your presence has woven itself quietly into the fabric of my days—
not flashy, not grand—
just there, strong and true.
You are part of my tapestry.
Category: Uncategorized (Page 2 of 2)
If I could gather every word of thanks, it would fill more pages than I have time to write.
So instead, I simply say this: I am better for having walked alongside you.
I never said it out loud, but your presence taught me trust.
Thank you for being a guide through the dark when I needed one.
He was a man who had grown accustomed to endings.
A man who lingered too long before closed doors, tracing their edges with regret,
while she stood beside him—always seeing the open window just beyond.
His faith had frayed, threadbare from years of dashed hopes and dreams left to wither.
And she—she was hope made real.
She wore it in her smile, in the ease of her voice, in the grace of her every step.
Where his body bore the scars of battles fought and lost,
her cinnamon skin seemed untouched by disappointment, unmarked by bitterness.
At their last meeting, as the world seemed to dim around him,
she pulled him close in a long, steady embrace—
the kind that steadied not the body, but the soul.
And she whispered:
“Believe in something good to happen. Trust that you will be happy.”
But the words felt like a distant star, too far for his weary heart to reach.
He tried—tried to hold the image she offered, tried to catch even a spark of her light.
Yet the shadows of his past crowded close,
mocking his effort, dimming his hope.
Where she saw the sunrise, he could only feel the night.
And so, he watched her walk away, carrying her light with her.
And for a moment, he mourned not what he had lost, but what he had not yet learned to see.
It came like a hurricane—
a storm of my own making.
The winds rose, howling through every weakness I thought I’d hidden.
The rain lashed, cold and merciless, against all I had tried to build.
The water rose, filling my lungs with fear, my mind with panic.
In that terror, I searched for shelter.
I reached for the one who had always been my refuge,
the friend whose presence had once steadied me in the worst of gales.
But no shelter came.
No wall stood.
Because I had torn it down with my own hands.
With a thoughtless phrase, a line crossed, a trust betrayed.
What had once been unshakable—I fractured.
What had once been home—I made hollow.
And so the storm consumed me.
The wind stripped away what I thought was strength.
The waves drowned the last of my dignity.
There was no identity left when it passed,
only wreckage—splintered, unsalvageable,
a painful ruin where something good once stood.
And when at last the sky cleared,
when the clouds scattered and the world exhaled—
there was nothing left.
All was lost.