issako

Love has no boundaries.
          Soulmates are made,
          destined for one another.
          
          Even in death,
          they find their way back—
          no matter how long it takes.
          
          For them, death
          is not an ending,
          but the beginning
          of another chapter.
          
          A pause in time
          where love continues
          in quiet waiting.
          
          One searches for the path home,
          while the other waits—
          believing,
          hoping,
          trusting they will meet again.
          
          Love knows no limits.
          When it is meant to be,
          it will always be.
          
          Soulmates—
          even in the afterlife—
          wait for each other,
          until they are reunited
          once more.
          
          I just published "SOULMATES" of my story "HAVE THORNS, LIKE A ROSE". https://www.wattpad.com/1598178437?utm_source=android&utm_medium=profile&utm_content=share_published&wp_page=create_on_publish&wp_uname=issako

Love—
          it blooms into something beautiful,
          like a novel you once read,
          like a movie that stayed with you.
          
          As destiny quietly weaves its thread,
          time strengthens what was meant to grow.
          
          In this lifetime,
          you never thought love could be like this—
          a love that always finds its way back,
          a love patient enough
          to wait for you to notice it.
          
          Patience teaches us
          to wait for the one
          God has destined,
          crafted,
          and prepared for us.
          
          And when we finally find it,
          we must fight for it,
          hold it close,
          and never let it go.
          
          As we witness this kind of love,
          we are reminded
          that hope still exists—
          that God strengthens us,
          teaches us,
          guides us.
          
          “Well,” I say quietly to myself,
          “this kind of love still lives.”
          
          To those who ended up with their first love.
          To those who waited
          and found their way back to a lost puppy love.
          To those destined for each other
          from the very beginning—
          
          I salute you.
          
          For love, to you,
          is not just a word—
          it is a feeling,
          a commitment,
          a faith.
          
          I just published "GOD'S TIMING" of my story "HAVE THORNS, LIKE A ROSE". https://www.wattpad.com/1596199267?utm_source=android&utm_medium=profile&utm_content=share_published&wp_page=create_on_publish&wp_uname=issako

Mam, from the poems of mine you read, which one do you think is the best one? 

Finally, I have something to write again. Now, I'm focusing more on what my dreams meant. 
          Which was my original intent from the beginning. I just got lost by making romance and paranormal novels. 
          
          But this... 
          
          All of this came from my dreams, i hope i could give justice in describing it. I hope I can finish this, and people can read this. 
          
          https://www.wattpad.com/story/405171774

Mam, should I post this:
          What is pure? 
          What isn't? 
          If white is pure, 
          Why is it
          The combination of seven
          And black none?
          
          Is the impure white
          Pure because it is
          The harmony of everything? 
          Is the pure 'black' impure
          As it is lonliness? 
          Quite a crazy juxtapose, 
          Isn't it? 
          
          The asker answering his work 
          In the form of a question
          Feels illegal, yet isn't. 
          If it were, I would be
          Long declared hellish. 
          
          While talking about purity, 
          Let's talk about something
          Even more primitive:
          Pain and Love. 
          
          Loving something is so hard
          Yet so easy. 
          Just leave to your right, 
          He'll handle. 
          Love is vulnerable. 
          Love is fragile. 
          
          Stay long enough with something, 
          You'd start loving it, 
          Pain is no exception. 
          Pain can loved too, 
          Just stay with it! 
          
          Being with something
          Doesn't guarantee 
          Love's germination, 
          The time spent
          Thinking about it/them, 
          Noticing it's/their 
          Uniqueness does. 
          
          Quite long, quite brag, 
          Quite boring, 
          Yet quite real, 
          Quite relatable
          And quite fascinating. 
          What I told
          Might not be true, 
          But what I feel
          Isn't wrong at all.

well, I might be on hiatus for couple of days. I've found something what to write on this time, and it will take time. I need to invest my mind to it. I hope you could read in the future. 
          
          my "lady inside the library" will be on pause, I just a kick on my head for it continue. I lost inspiration on writing that story, but I will finish it soon.

Slowly,
          the dreamland I knew—
          the world I grew up with—
          is disappearing.
          Slowly,
          slowly.
          
          It scares me.
          It feels like half of me
          is gone,
          missing.
          
          I stopped dreaming of it.
          Its haunting places,
          its infinity pools,
          even the calm sea.
          
          I no longer return
          to the enchanted waterfalls,
          nor the hidden ruins.
          They’ve vanished.
          
          The haunted town I used to wander,
          the bridge I used to cross—
          nothing.
          Just gone.
          
          I want to go back.
          I want to feel it again,
          to get lost,
          to wander through new corners of it.
          
          But why?
          Why did I stop dreaming of it?
          
          Was it because I grew up?
          
          My world changed.
          The dreamland I once knew
          shifted,
          quietly,
          into something new.
          
          And I miss it.
          I miss it deeply.
          
          I wish I could return.
          I wish I could be a child again—
          lost in my dreamland,
          alive in its magic.
          
          I just published "FADING MAPS OF MY MIND" of my story "DREAM, LIKE A POPPY FLOWER". https://www.wattpad.com/1594770918?utm_source=android&utm_medium=profile&utm_content=share_published&wp_page=create_on_publish&wp_uname=issako

To the boy who fell for me inside my dream.
          We were never meant to be together—
          not then, not even if our paths crossed again.
          
          You were ready.
          But I wasn’t available.
          Not anymore.
          
          Our gap became our hindrance,
          our differences the quiet cause
          of everything we couldn’t be.
          
          I never meant for you to fall for me.
          I never meant to hurt you like this.
          
          Yet somehow, we were inseparable.
          We felt like one.
          But time moved, and so did we.
          
          I had to change.
          I grew tired.
          And that’s why I left.
          
          But when we met again,
          you were still the same—
          as if you had been waiting,
          hoping I’d return to you.
          
          And this time, you were ready.
          But I wasn’t.
          Because it was too late.
          I already belonged to someone else.
          
          I just published "TO THE BOY INSIDE MY DREAM" of my story "DREAM, LIKE A POPPY FLOWER". https://www.wattpad.com/1594770617?utm_source=android&utm_medium=profile&utm_content=share_published&wp_page=create_on_publish&wp_uname=issako

Hola mam, from what age are you writing poems? I started this recently. I started writing poems this year in February. Well, which country are ya from? 

A glimpse from the past,
          So I thought.
          Familiar faces,
          Old classmates.
          
          A snippet of the old classroom—
          Friends sitting,
          Talking,
          Laughing.
          
          I was there,
          Standing at the back, introducing something.
          
          A book.
          My book.
          The one I never published.
          
          How carefree I was,
          Talking about it.
          Friends buying,
          Supporting me.
          
          Some smiled.
          Some giggled.
          Some related.
          
          The poems—
          My thoughts—
          Were already out in the world.
          
          And when I woke up,
          I kept thinking:
          Should I try to chase this dream?
          Or just wait for life to give me a sign?
          
          Should I take the risk and make it happen?
          Or let it happen on its own?
          
          The dream was beautiful.
          Carefree.
          True.
          
          I want to make it real.
          But something inside me
          Still holds me back.
          
          I just published "WHEN MY WORDS FOUND A WORLD" of my story "DREAM, LIKE A POPPY FLOWER". https://www.wattpad.com/1592978906?utm_source=android&utm_medium=profile&utm_content=share_published&wp_page=create_on_publish&wp_uname=issako