Tender Fire


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Stars can’t shine without darkness.”
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Forward from: GiF
تعال اوجه احلى منشور بقناتك🎁

وجه وأخذك من الاحصائيات
⌛

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🎁

https://t.me/matemgifs


شمرولي نجمه هنا


She sat before the candle, quiet but full inside — her heart burning gently like its flame, and as she watched the soft light flicker, something inside her bent down to it, not because it was fierce, but because it burned without asking for anything in return; in that small, trembling glow, she saw herself — a soul that keeps shining despite the pain, a warmth that gives even while breaking, and she whispered a silent vow: she would not fight the fire, but soften within it, letting it teach her how to be light, not anger.


She sits alone,
the weight of memories heavy on her chest,
each thought a faded photograph —
once bright, now blurred by time and regret.
In the quiet, her heart aches,
longing for lost moments and words unsaid.
She lifts a warm cup of coffee,
seeking comfort in its gentle heat,
trying to soothe the silence inside,
while shadows of the past linger close.




All his life,
he left things before they could leave him.
People, places, moments —
he let them go early,
not because he wanted to,
but because he thought loss would hurt less
if it came by his own hands.
It never did.




She feels the sun —
its rays gently kissing her skin,
slipping quietly through the window
to fill her room with warmth and light.
For a moment,
she forgets the cold outside
and lets the sun hold her like a quiet embrace.




I walked through fire believing it would purify me, only to emerge with ashes where my heart should be. Now I kneel in the ruins of my own making, collecting the shattered pieces with hands that finally understand — some loves are self-betrayal dressed in sacrifice. But from these ashes, I learn to rise, not to be consumed again, but to build a flame that warms without burning. And with every scar I carry, I vow to protect my heart — not as a prisoner, but as its fiercest guardian.




I miss the version of me that used to laugh without thinking.
Now I sit in silence, not because I have nothing to say —
but because I’ve learned not everyone deserves to hear my heart.

Loneliness no longer scares me.
It became my quiet companion,
and in it, I found parts of me I had forgotten.

⸻




In every sip, I find a little escape from Eid’s memories — a quiet moment where the noise of celebration fades away, and my heart quietly holds on to a fragile peace amidst the bittersweet nostalgia of what once was. Though the days pass and the world moves on, this simple cup of tea becomes my solace, a gentle reminder that even in absence, warmth and comfort can still be found.”


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As the pages flutter gently in the breeze, they carry whispers of forgotten stories and timeless memories, reminding us that every moment, no matter how small, leaves an imprint on the heart.”


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ركبتُ الجوادَ، وعينُ المساءِ
تنادي: إلى أينَ؟ ما من رجاءِ!

شدَدتُ اللجامَ، وقلبي كسيرٌ،
أحاولُ فرًّا… وذاكَ ابتداءُ انتهاءِ

وراءَ الجبالِ، وراءَ الصحارى،
أفرُّ من الصوتِ، من كلِّ نداءِ

أفرُّ من الناسِ، من ذكرياتي،
من النارِ تشعلُ فيّ الرجاءَ

خيولي تبكّي خُطاها، وتسأل:
“أمجنونُ أنتَ؟ أما من بقاءِ؟”

فقلتُ: دعيني أذوبُ بعيدًا،
لعلّي أذوقُ طيوفَ النقاء


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سئمتُ الحياةَ، وفي القلبِ نارْ
وفي العينِ بحرٌ، وفي الصمتِ ثارْ

أخبّي جراحي وراءَ الضّلوعِ
كأنّي بخيرٍ، وقلبي انكسارْ

أُحادثُ نفسي كأني غريبٌ
أُفتّشُ عنّي، فألقاني غُبارْ

تمرُّ الليالي، كأنّي حجرٌ
تطوفُ به الريحُ، لا دارَ… لا دارْ

فمن لي إذا هدّني كلُّ شيءٍ؟
ومن لي إذا خذلَ الأصدقاءُ المسارْ؟


She holds the cup with trembling hands,
The tea is warm, but not enough.
It soothes her lips, not all her scars—
Some wounds run silent, deep, and rough.

She sips, pretending she’s okay,
But shadows gather in her eyes.
The steam can’t melt the weight she bears,
Nor hush the echo of goodbyes.


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يا قلبيَ المتعبَ في صمتِ السنين،
من ذا يُناديك إن خفتَ الأنين؟
لا سندٌ يُرجى، ولا حضنٌ حنون،
والكونُ ضاق، وكلُّ ما فيهِ سجين.

أمشي على أشواكِ روحي حافية،
وأكتمُ الآهاتِ في صدرٍ دفين،
من لي؟ وأنا للناس ظلٌّ غائب،
لا يُبصرونَ النورَ في وجهي الحزين.

لكن، وإن خانتني كلُّ الجهات،
يبقى الأمل… في داخلي لا مات،
أنا التي، وإن انكسرتْ أضلاعُها،
قامت… وقالت: لن أكونَ شتات

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