a haunting meditation on grief, love, and letting go told through a moonlit encounter with a ghost ship adrift at sea. this piece explores what it means to be still after heartbreak, to carry wreckage in your chest, and to search for motion without losing yourself.

part myth, part memory, part mourning, it asks: how do you unmoor without vanishing? how do you keep sailing when the storm has already torn you apart? step aboard, if you dare. the tide is whispering.

i unravel the quiet ache of longing. the kind that brews like coffee in the dark, filling the silence with warmth that never stays. it’s about the dreams that bring someone close, only for morning light to steal them away.

through spoken word, i explore the weight of unspoken feelings, fiery blushes, missed chances, and the slow understanding that some love stories were never meant to be told, just deeply felt.

i slow down to honor a quiet kind of hero. the dad whose love shows up not in speeches, but in soft bread and steady steps. through poetic storytelling, i explore the beauty in everyday moments: the rustle of plastic bags, the smell of fresh dough, the smile of a man who brings warmth home one loaf at a time. it’s a love that doesn’t ask to be seen—but once you do, it changes the way you see everything.

here’s my poem called “m’pay bay village,” inspired by a small seaside village on koh rong sanloem in cambodia. i wrote this six years ago, when i was completely swept away by the untouched beauty of nature—the way the sun and moon seemed to take turns lighting the sky, as if offering each other comfort. this piece is a reflection of that quiet exchange, the harmony between day and night, and the gentle reminder that love can be soft, patient, and constant just like the tides.