Verses and Vignettes

05/08/2026

The deepest grief is mourning a future, a love, a life that never truly existed.

Read "August, you were never mine to lose" here: https://lettersbyeni.medium.com/august-you-were-never-mine-to-lose-83ede3e96121

22/07/2026

If my heart were described as a business,
Perhaps, the destiny of meeting you would be the investment I never intended to make.

Read "The Balance Sheet of Meeting Each Other" here: https://lettersbyeni.medium.com/the-balance-sheet-of-meeting-each-other-33db78923d2f

19/07/2026

Perhaps I do rest.
But I am not truly resting.

Because rest was never just about sleeping; it was about knowing someone would remind me to.

And if resting means accepting that the only remaining proof of us is a conversation you would have deleted the moment we parted ways, perhaps I will keep torturing myself by being busy and exhausted.

Because some memories are easier to carry than standing before the truth that your heart no longer calls me home.

Read "Was I Keeping Myself Busy? Or Was I Depriving Myself Of Rest Just To Escape The Reality Of Us?" here: https://medium.com/good-with-words/was-i-keeping-myself-busy-or-was-i-depriving-myself-of-rest-just-to-escape-the-reality-of-us-ab09d1305a5f

"Was I Keeping Myself Busy? Or Was I Depriving Myself Of Rest Just To Escape The Reality Of Us?" was published on July 15, 2026, in The Writer's Voice on Medium.

12/04/2026

Leyte, where familiarity and memories sway like poems, written by Verses and Vignettes tells the story of an author revisiting a place once filled with love. It traces how he recalls the moments he shared with his partner—the life they once imagined building together—as he returns to the very place where those dreams once felt certain.

Years have passed, and the words they once etched into their messages now live only in memory. As the author sets foot in Leyte again, he confronts the quiet weight of loss, revisiting fragments of a love that remains only in echoes. In this return, he commemorates not just what was lost, but what still lingers—familiar, yet forever changed.

Read the whole story on Medium:

But when I think of Leyte, I think of your name—and our story with epilogue that you alone, had the courage to write.

31/03/2026

Syntax Buried in Symbols
by Verses and Vignettes, March 2026

Synopsis: A language unspoken, a truth trapped in symbols beyond understanding. This poem calls to recognize its meaning and give it a voice before it’s buried in the noise of nothingness.

I felt like a garden—
with thorns, buried in absence.
A language even experts
could not interpret,
nor fully name.

It speaks in symbols,
in pauses of withheld meaning—
something the academe tries to read,
yet never understands.

But a language is not a garden
where absence is meant to be buried.

It should have a name.

If there is a symbol you keep encrypted,
buried in languages beyond language,
let it be called.

Do not leave it dying
in the structure of your mutedness.

29/01/2026

November passed a long time ago—a moment when we honor the life of someone who has departed from the world we live in.

But grief, in whatever season, time, or day, doesn’t depart so easily if we don’t know how to cope. Some cope with grief by listening to music and letting their emotions overflow. Some dance to release it, while others paint.

For me, I write letters to cope with grief. I write letters, asking what they would say if they witnessed my turning points. I write letters and pour out the things I wish they could have said.

I write letters as if pain suffocates me with every drop of ink, letting the pen bleed tears that my eyes cannot shed.

Grief is not linear. It can strike in any season, at any hour—even in moments when you feel healed, only to be brought back by a dream of them.

Grieving someone is not a weakness. It is the echo of a love so profound it transcends memory—memory into meaning, and meaning into the silent endurance that keeps us alive, even after losing someone we loved most.