Love courses through my veins, unseen, In every thread of who I’ve been. A quiet pulse, a steady fire, A rhythm born of deep desire.
It fills my breath, it shapes my soul, With every heartbeat, makes me whole. In each small gesture, soft and pure, A love that’s boundless, strong, secure.
It wraps my bones, it warms my skin, A force without, a spark within. No piece untouched, no part denied, In every fiber, love abides.
From fingertips to fleeting thought, In every battle love has fought. Through joy and pain, through doubt and fear, Its whispers rise, forever near.
A love that’s lived, and breathed, and grown, In every fiber, deeply sown. A life entwined, a heart set free— For love is all I am, and me.
What’s the best piece of advice you’ve ever received?
Growing up, my father was always my anchor, yet he was the wind that pushed me forward. He had this unwavering belief in the power of dreams, not just as fleeting fantasies, but as the compass to guide one’s life. He’d often sit me down during quiet moments, his voice steady and warm, like the hum of a gentle engine. “You have to chase what sets your heart on fire,” he would say, “because no one else can do it for you.”
He believed in hard work, but he also believed in the kind of work that made your soul come alive. “The world will tell you to play it safe,” he’d warn. “But if you spend your life afraid of falling, you’ll never know how high you can climb.”
When I doubted myself, wondering if I was capable enough to chase the big dreams I held inside, my father never let me shrink back. “Failure isn’t something to fear,” he’d remind me, leaning in with those wise eyes of his. “Failure means you’re trying, you’re growing. It’s a sign that you’re on the right path, not the wrong one.”
His words stayed with me through every challenge—every time I hesitated to leap, every time I fell. He’d be there, either in person or in my mind, reminding me that life’s greatest rewards lie just beyond the bounds of fear. “Dreams are meant to be pursued,” he’d say with a gentle nudge. “Even if the road is tough, that’s how you know it’s worth it.”
It wasn’t just his words, though—it was his actions. I saw how he lived, how he relentlessly pursued his own passions, even when life threw its hardest punches. His resilience wasn’t just a lesson, it was a beacon. He wasn’t afraid to try, wasn’t afraid to fail, and because of that, he wasn’t afraid to succeed.
And so, I carry his voice with me, always urging me forward.
Write about your most epic baking or cooking fail.
I set out with grand plans for a perfect pizza night—fresh ingredients, a homemade crust, and all the toppings I could dream of. The kitchen was prepped, the sauce simmered gently on the stove, and I was ready to conquer the art of pizza making. Easy, right? Well, that’s where it all went wrong.
The dough was supposed to be the foundation of my masterpiece. I followed the recipe to the letter—flour, water, yeast, the works—but something was clearly off from the start. My dough wasn’t the soft, elastic ball I imagined. Instead, it was a sticky, unmanageable mess that clung to everything it touched, especially my hands. I tried adding more flour, but it only turned into a stiff, flour-covered lump that wouldn’t budge.
I attempted to roll it out, but the dough had other ideas. It tore in weird places, stretched unevenly, and refused to stay round. I tossed it in the air, hoping for that pizzeria magic, but it landed on the counter in a shapeless blob. It wasn’t pizza dough anymore; it was an experiment gone horribly wrong.
Determined not to give up, I spread the sauce and toppings over my misshapen base, popped it in the oven, and prayed for a miracle. The smell was promising, but when I pulled it out… oh, the horror! The edges were burnt, the middle was doughy, and the whole thing had puffed up like some kind of tragic pizza balloon. The cheese had slid off into a molten pile on one side, while the rest of the toppings had sunk into the soggy center.
I took one bite—chewy, undercooked, and oddly crunchy all at once. Damn! My epic pizza night had turned into an epic pizza failure. I had to laugh as I stared at the sad creation in front of me, wondering how something so simple could go so terribly wrong. Pizza night, I decided, was better left to the professionals—at least for now.
In the quiet corners of my mind, I keep your love, I know will never be mine A tender touch, a whispered word, Now echoes soft, though never heard.
You were the light in each passing day, A gentle soul that touched me in so many ways. Though time went by so swiftly, and life moved on, Your memory lingers like a song, on and on.
I hold you close deep within me, a secret space, Your sweet smile, my heavenly grace. And though years may fade and seasons flee, One thing remains, you’ll always be my sweetest memory.
In my dream, I walked with you once more, Our love, untouched by time’s own shore. For some are meant to stay behind, As memories gentle, pure, and kind.
Though what we shared has come and gone, Yet in my heart, it lingers on. The echoes of your laugh still play, Like ghosts that haunt the light of day.
We walked our paths, now worlds apart, But still, you live within my heart. Your face, your hands, your kiss— Endless scenes of tenderness, which I can’t help but miss.
Though we lost each other along the way, But defiant memories refuse to fade. And maybe our chapter’s reached its end, But you’ll always be my “might-have-been,” none can rend.
And I will always cherish your memories, our magical thing, An anthem my heart will always dearly sing.
When I need to unwind and escape from the grind, I’ve got a few tricks that help ease my mind. I’ll start with a tune, belting notes with some power— Yes, that’s right, I sing in the shower!
The steam starts to rise, I hit every note, Like I’m a diva, or so I like to gloat. But the shampoo’s my mic, and the soap’s on the floor, I’ll probably slip, but I’ll still ask for more!
Once I’m all clean, in my robe, snug and tight, I sit down to relax and, of course, start to write. I scribble my thoughts, I let my mind roam, Why stress over life when I can just write a poem?
With every rhyme, my worries fade fast— Ah, relaxation, you’re a spell that will last. So whether I’m singing or writing away, It’s how I unwind at the end of the day!
Lyrics, Sentiments and Me 
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