we used to wait for letters,
now we wait for blue ticks.

love once lived in long conversations,
now it hides behind short replies.

we scroll past feelings,
like they were just another post.

we watch each other online,
but forget how to be together.

romance did not disappear,
we simply stopped giving it time...

@jb005 | cravingink

what did i do wrong, that your voice now feels like winter against my skin?
why did your warmth vanish, leaving frost between every word you send?
where did that playful charm go, now your replies arrive pale and lifeless?
when did your laughter turn into silence, and your softness into distance?
i gave you my truth with nothing covered, so what did you see in me?
i stayed loyal with an open heart, so what suddenly changed?
i was candid with you, never wearing a mask, so why am i being met with ice?
did i hurt you somewhere without knowing, or did you simply stop feeling me?
why do your words now land like closed doors instead of open arms?
what happened to the warmth that once made even ordinary chats feel alive?
if i disappointed you, why leave me standing outside your silence?
if there is a complaint against my heart, why not speak it plainly to me?
i keep reaching for the person you were, but my hands keep touching coldness
tell me what i missed, what i broke, what i failed to understand
was my honesty too much, or did my loyalty become something you no longer wanted?
did my sincerity become invisible while i was still giving it freely?
please give me answers, or give me your complaint, just do not leave me frozen here
because i would rather bleed from the truth than keep shivering inside your silence...

@jb005poetry

I’ll meet you gently,
with honest hands,
a listening heart,
and room for your becoming.

I’ll choose you
without owning you,
hold you without hiding you,
and love you without losing myself.

I’ll speak truth,
even when silence feels easier.

I’ll protect our peace,
respect your boundaries,
celebrate your dreams,
and never make your softness
feel unsafe.

I’ll desire you deeply,
but never forget
that passion needs tenderness.

I’ll learn your laughter,
your fears,
your quiet moods,
the places where words fail you.

And when marriage finds us,
I want our home to feel
like two free souls
choosing each other daily.

Come as you are, Eve.
I am not looking for perfection.

I am looking for something real,
warm, wild, gentle,
and ours...

@jb005|cravingink

My land wakes beneath a golden sun,
where mountains carry clouds upon their shoulders.
Rivers wander like silver veins,
feeding valleys with ancient songs.

Forests breathe where silence grows wild,
and trees hold secrets older than memory.
The soil keeps gold beneath our footsteps,
while lakes mirror the restless sky.

Wildlife moves like living poetry,
across plains painted by the wind.
Rain arrives like a blessing,
turning dry earth into green dreams.

Here, nature is not decoration,
it is wealth, breath, memory, and home.
And I belong to this beautiful wilderness...

@JB005POETRY

@jb005|cravingink

@jb005poetry

For Dhanel…

I used to think home was a place.

A roof above your head.

A familiar street.

A room where you knew exactly where everything belonged.

I was wrong.

Then you came into my life, Dhanel.

And suddenly, home became a person.

You.

I don't know exactly when it happened.

Maybe it was hidden somewhere between our conversations.

Maybe it was in the way your words stayed with me long after we said goodnight.

Maybe it was the way you made an ordinary moment feel like something I should keep forever.

Whatever it was, somewhere along the way, my heart stopped looking for a place to belong.

It found you.

There is something different about the way you love me.

It doesn't feel loud.

It doesn't need to announce itself to the world.

It arrives quietly, like rain against a window when everyone else is asleep.

And somehow, I hear it.

I feel it.

I carry it.

Your love has become one of those rare places where I don't have to pretend.

I don't have to be stronger than I am.

I don't have to hide the parts of myself that are still healing.

With you, I can simply exist.

And maybe that is what home really means.

A place where your heart doesn't have to wear armor.

Dhanel, you have become the softness I didn't know I needed.

The pause after a difficult day.

The thought that makes me smile when nobody is watching.

The name I find myself returning to when the world becomes too noisy.

Sometimes I wonder how someone can live so far away and still occupy such a close corner of my heart.

But love has never respected distance.

It doesn't measure affection in kilometers.

It doesn't ask how many oceans stand between two people.

It simply finds a way.

And somehow, your heart found mine.

There are moments when I imagine what it would feel like to sit beside you.

No phones.

No screens.

No distance.

Just you and me sharing the kind of silence that doesn't need to be explained.

I imagine looking at you and realizing that all those nights I missed you were preparing me for one beautiful moment:

Finally being close enough to say,

"I am here."

I think I would hold your hand first.

Not because I wouldn't know what to say.

But because there are feelings that words can only touch from a distance.

I would want to feel the warmth of your hand and remind myself that you are real.

That the woman who became a thousand thoughts inside my head is finally sitting beside me.

That the person I once reached through words can finally be reached through touch.

And maybe I would tell you something simple.

Something I've known for a while.

"I found home in the way you love me."

Not because you promised me perfection.

Not because you made every problem disappear.

But because you made me feel like I didn't have to face everything alone.

Your love doesn't make life perfect.

It makes life feel worth walking through.

There is a difference.

You don't rescue me from every storm.

You simply make me believe I can survive the rain.

And there is something incredibly beautiful about being loved that way.

The kind of love that doesn't try to possess you.

It simply chooses you.

Again.

And again.

And again.

Dhanel, I don't want to love you only in the beautiful moments.

I want the ordinary ones too.

I want your tired mornings.

Your quiet evenings.

Your random thoughts.

Your laughter when something isn't even that funny.

Your silence when words aren't available.

I want to know the woman behind the beautiful smile.

The dreams you don't always talk about.

The fears you sometimes hide.

The little things that make you happy.

The things that make you angry.

The memories that shaped you.

I want to know you beyond the version of you that the world gets to see.

Because I don't just want your beauty.

I want your truth.

And perhaps that is why this feels different.

I'm not simply fascinated by you.

I am becoming attached to the person you are when nobody is watching.

The woman behind the name.

The soul behind the smile.

The heart behind the words.

You.

Just you.

Sometimes I think about how strange love is.

Two people can live beneath different skies and still wake up carrying each other in their thoughts.

Two hearts can be separated by oceans and somehow beat toward the same feeling.

Maybe that's what we are.

Two people standing on different sides of distance,

yet somehow meeting in the same place.

Love.

And if someday the distance disappears, I hope we don't lose the magic that brought us here.

I hope we still talk for hours.

I hope we still make each other laugh.

I hope I still look at you and wonder how someone so far away became such a familiar part of me.

I hope ordinary days still feel extraordinary simply because you're in them.

Because I don't need a perfect love story.

I need a real one.

One with laughter.

One with mistakes.

One with forgiveness.

One with patience.

One with two imperfect people choosing each other even when life becomes complicated.

That is the kind of story I want with you.

Not a story that looks beautiful from the outside.

A story that feels beautiful from within.

A story where we become each other's safe place.

And perhaps years from now, when we look back at the beginning, we will remember the distance.

The nights we missed each other.

The conversations that carried us across oceans.

The moments when we wondered when we would finally stand in the same room.

And we will smile.

Because we made it.

Not because the distance was easy.

But because what we found on the other side of it was worth every mile.

Dhanel, if love is a journey, then I don't want to rush toward the destination.

I want to remember the road.

Every conversation.

Every heartbeat.

Every moment your name appeared on my screen and somehow changed the atmosphere of my entire day.

I want to remember how you became important to me without asking permission.

How you became familiar without ever being physically near.

How you became home without ever giving me a key.

And maybe that is the most beautiful thing about you.

You never had to tell me where I belonged.

You simply loved me in a way that made my heart understand.

Home isn't always where you were born.

It isn't always where you sleep.

Sometimes home is a voice.

Sometimes it is a smile.

Sometimes it is a person whose presence makes the world feel a little less heavy.

For me,

home has your name.

Dhanel.

And if my heart ever forgets where it belongs,

I know exactly where to take it.

Back to you.

Because I didn't find home in a place.

I found home in the way you love me…

@jb005 | cravingink

For Dhanel, somewhere beneath the Seattle sky…

There are people you meet.

There are people you remember.

And then there are those rare souls who quietly become a part of you. so deeply that even when the world goes silent, you can still hear them somewhere inside your heart.

Dhanel is that kind of person to me.

She lives in Seattle, on another continent, beneath a sky I cannot simply walk beneath whenever I miss her.

There are oceans between us.

Time zones.

Miles of roads I have never traveled.

Airports I have never waited in.

And yet, somehow, none of those things have managed to convince my heart that she is far away.

Because love has never understood geography.

It has never cared about borders.

It has never asked how many kilometers separate two people before deciding whether they are meant to belong to each other.

Sometimes love simply arrives.

Quietly.

Unexpectedly.

And before you realize what has happened, someone living thousands of miles away begins to feel closer than everyone standing beside you.

That is Dhanel.

She is everything beautiful I cannot adequately describe.

Not only the beauty that eyes can see, but the kind that lingers after the conversation ends.

The kind that makes you smile at your phone for no particular reason.

The kind that turns an ordinary evening into something worth remembering.

There is something about her that feels like poetry before the first word is written.

Something about her presence that makes distance feel like a temporary inconvenience rather than a permanent wall.

Sometimes I imagine Seattle.

Not as a city.

But as the place where a piece of my heart happens to live.

I imagine the rain falling against her window while I sit somewhere beneath an entirely different sky, wondering if perhaps the same rainclouds once passed over my side of the world before finding their way to hers.

Maybe that is what love does.

It makes strangers out of distances.

It turns cities into memories.

It makes a continent feel like a neighborhood because somewhere within it lives the person your heart keeps searching for.

And every time I think about Dhanel, I understand something I never knew before:

You don't always fall in love by being physically close to someone.

Sometimes you fall through words.

Through late conversations.

Through the little things they say without realizing how deeply they stay with you.

Through the way they make you feel seen.

Through the strange comfort of knowing that somewhere, thousands of miles away, there is a woman whose existence has somehow become important to your own.

We are in an abyss of love.

And perhaps abyss is the only word large enough for what I feel.

Because this isn't the shallow kind of affection that disappears when the night becomes morning.

It is deeper.

Darker.

Warmer.

It is the kind of love where you stop asking yourself whether you are falling and begin wondering how far down the heart can go.

And I don't want a way out.

Let me fall.

Let me lose myself somewhere between her name and the sound of her voice.

Let me wander through this beautiful madness until I forget where loneliness used to live.

Because if loving Dhanel is an abyss, then I would rather drown in it than spend another lifetime standing safely at the edge.

There are nights when I wish distance could be folded like a letter.

I would fold Kenya into Seattle.

Fold the ocean between us into silence.

Fold every mile into the space between two heartbeats.

And then I would simply appear beside her.

No airport.

No passport.

No countdown.

Just me standing there, looking at the woman who somehow became a home I had never physically visited.

I wonder what I would say.

Perhaps nothing.

Because some moments are too beautiful for language.

I would probably just look at her.

And let my eyes confess everything my words had been trying to explain.

I would tell her that I missed her before I ever held her.

That I loved the idea of waking up one morning and not having to calculate the time difference before saying good morning.

That I want conversations that don't end because one of us has to sleep.

I want ordinary things with her.

A walk.

A cup of coffee.

Rain against a window.

A quiet evening where neither of us needs to say anything.

I want the kind of memories that don't need photographs because they become photographs inside the heart.

But until that day comes, I will keep loving her through the distance.

I will keep carrying her name across oceans.

I will keep finding pieces of her in songs, sunsets, rain, poetry, and those quiet moments when the world seems to pause.

Because some people become a chapter.

Some become a beautiful paragraph.

Some disappear before the story has even found its ending.

But Dhanel?

She is the only story my heart refuses to end.

I don't know what tomorrow has written for us.

I don't know how many miles still stand between our hands.

I don't know how long the universe intends to make us wait before finally putting the same sky above our heads.

But I know this:

If my heart had a library, her name would be written on the door.

If my soul had a favorite poem, it would be the one written about her.

If my life were a book, I would leave the last page deliberately blank.

Not because I don't know how the story ends.

But because I don't want it to.

I want more mornings.

More conversations.

More laughter.

More longing.

More impossible distance somehow becoming possible.

More of her.

More of us.

And perhaps one day, when Seattle is no longer a distant name on a map and the ocean is no longer something separating two hearts, I will finally stand before Dhanel and tell her what these words have been trying to say all along:

You were never just someone I loved from far away.

You became the distance I learned to cross with my heart.

You became the dream I kept awake for.

You became the silence that somehow spoke to me.

You became the woman who taught my heart that thousands of miles can still be smaller than a single heartbeat.

And if life gives me a thousand stories after this one,

I will still return to yours.

Because there are stories we read and forget.

Stories we finish and put away.

And then there is you.

You are the only story my heart refuses to end…

@jb005|cravingink

Welcome to my 005 poetry world,

I confess
I steal sunsets for my sentences,
borrow tears from the rain,
and interrogate the moon
when humans refuse to answer.

I write about love
because apparently
loving it wasn't painful enough.

I turn wounds into verses,
then smile when people call them beautiful,
how charmingly cruel,
to applaud the poetry
and ignore the bleeding poet.

I have argued with silence,
flirted with darkness,
and made sadness pay rent
inside my notebooks.

They say poets are dreamers.

Perhaps.

But I know the truth.

We are just professional liars
who dress the truth in beautiful clothes
and call it art.

So if you find me quiet,
don't worry.

I'm probably somewhere
turning your goodbye
into my next masterpiece...

@jb005|cravingink

Welcome to my 005 poetry world,

I confess
I steal sunsets for my sentences,
borrow tears from the rain,
and interrogate the moon
when humans refuse to answer.

I write about love
because apparently
loving it wasn't painful enough.

I turn wounds into verses,
then smile when people call them beautiful,
how charmingly cruel,
to applaud the poetry
and ignore the bleeding poet.

I have argued with silence,
flirted with darkness,
and made sadness pay rent
inside my notebooks.

They say poets are dreamers.

Perhaps.

But I know the truth.

We are just professional liars
who dress the truth in beautiful clothes
and call it art.

So if you find me quiet,
don't worry.

I'm probably somewhere
turning your goodbye
into my next masterpiece...

@jb005|cravingink