Curious Heart, Bold Art

Curious Heart, Bold Art Curious by nature, creative by heart. Sharing poems, art, and everything in between

Would you trade your authenticity for love?
05/01/2026

Would you trade your authenticity for love?

Do we really call it lonelinesswhen nothing is asking for us anymore?Or is it freedom—when the silence isn’t empty,just ...
01/01/2026

Do we really call it loneliness
when nothing is asking for us anymore?

Or is it freedom—
when the silence isn’t empty,
just uninterrupted?

Maybe the difference isn’t about being alone,
but about whether the quiet feels heavy
or finally honest.

What do you hear
when everything stops asking?

B 🤍



26/11/2025

The Higher Self

Today, I am the best version of me.
I no longer stay small to make others feel comfortable.
I no longer silence my truth because my voice didn’t feel important.

Today I know that strength is not the same as endurance like I used to think.
I learned that struggle was not my identity as a Filipino.

Today I am not perfect
But Today, I am the best version of me.

And Tomorrow?
I’ll be another best version again—
stronger,
softer,
wiser,
braver.

Healing isn’t loud.
It’s present.
It’s now.
It’s becoming who you are
while still reaching for who you can be.

—B ❤️

22/11/2025

Imagine this

You lay down on your bed,
and for the first time
You felt the weight lifting off your shoulders.

No survival to calculate,
no money to chase,
no loneliness sitting in your chest.

Just a quiet room,
a soft blanket,
and the feeling that someone,
anyone who truly cares,
is sitting beside you.

They touch the edge of the burden
You’ve carried for years
and say,
“You don’t have to be strong tonight.
Give it to me.
Rest.”

And in that moment,
You picture everything loosening,
the pressure,
the sadness,
the fear of tomorrow,
the ache of feeling unchosen.

All of it drifting away
as if the world finally understood
how tired you’ve been.

You lay there,
still, breathing soft,
and u imagine what it feels like
to finally be held
without having to earn it.

For the first time,
You imagine a night
where the weight is not yours to carry.

B❤️

He was literally made from discarded dead bodies put together 😭It made me think , we’re all kind of stitched together to...
11/11/2025

He was literally made from discarded dead bodies put together 😭
It made me think , we’re all kind of stitched together too just not literally, u know what I mean?
Even Victor, his creator, was emotionally in pieces long before he began creating life. And that’s the tragedy, both of them were longing for love, but both didn’t know how to give or receive it.

B🖤

🖤🖤🖤
08/11/2025

🖤🖤🖤

At some point, you stop excusing the hurtand start protecting your peace instead. 🌙
08/11/2025

At some point, you stop excusing the hurt
and start protecting your peace instead. 🌙

One day — I promise.You’ll wake up and realize the weight has quietly faded.Your heart will feel calm again,and peace wi...
08/11/2025

One day — I promise.
You’ll wake up and realize the weight has quietly faded.
Your heart will feel calm again,
and peace will finally feel like home. 🌙

The Ghost CityWhen I close my eyes, the walls begin to move, Colors whisper secrets I already knew. Pink and green in ...
08/11/2025

The Ghost City

When I close my eyes, the walls begin to move,
Colors whisper secrets I already knew.
Pink and green in spirals of light,
Pulling me softly into the night.

I’m half awake, half gone away,
The stars are talking, they know my name.

There’s a city that lives inside of me,
Where the lost and the dreamers meet.
I hear the tune but it fades with dawn,
I am both the singer and the song.

White mesh walls, they rise like waves,
A quiet world my soul once saved.
A man was running, or maybe it’s me,
Hiding from faces I’ll never see.

I reach for him, but the dream lets go,
He disappears where the colors glow.

There’s a city that lives inside of me,
Where the lost and the dreamers meet.
I hear the tune but it fades with dawn,
I am both the singer and the song.

Maybe this is where my heart belongs,
Between the breath and the breaking of dawn.
I write in silence, I hum in sleep,
The promises my soul can’t keep.

There’s a city that lives inside of me,
Where the lost and the dreamers meet.
Even when the morning comes,
I’m still the singer…
and the song.

-B🖤

Pain doesn’t always need to be healed,sometimes, it just needs to be turned into art. 🎨✨
07/11/2025

Pain doesn’t always need to be healed,
sometimes, it just needs to be turned into art. 🎨✨

It’s scary, but also freeing, to be seen as we really are, without pretending to be okay all the time.Sometimes, it’s no...
07/11/2025

It’s scary, but also freeing, to be seen as we really are, without pretending to be okay all the time.
Sometimes, it’s not even about being understood, just being heard. 🌙

06/11/2025

We push ourselves, meet expectations, chase progress. At the end of the day, we wonder why it still feels empty.
Maybe life isn’t about doing more or being more. Maybe it’s about remembering the small things that make us feel alive - our art, our music, the quiet moments that bring peace.
The world will always ask for more from us, but we owe it to ourselves not to disappear in the process.

stay passionately curious 🌙
-B🖤

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