Hello. I am called 'a.sinr', a soul carved from poetry, bleeding verses into the quiet.
I am a poet, a writer, a sinner by devotion. I live where words bleed and silence aches. I write only when love overflows or when pain becomes unbearable. I tear myself open and bleed words and poems. Not for art. Not for beauty. But because some loves refuse to stay quiet. 𓇢𓆸
I breathe books. I live inside literature. I am lost in films, trapped in scenes that never happened, romancing moments that only exist in my mind. Poetry is not something I do... it is how I survive.
I am chaos wrapped in verses. A psycho guy, perhaps. A sinr, without apology. A mess of emotions stitched together by metaphors.
My only sin is loving her with a devotion so absolute that return has lost its meaning, and forgetting has become impossible. There is no going back for me. Even if it takes multiple lives, I will wait. Even after eternity has passed, I will still be Hers.
✦ About my words ✦
My poetry is pain‑born. Soul‑driven. Written only when I am in love or when I am breaking. True poetry demands more than vocabulary. It asks for annihilation.
✦ What lives on this blog ✦
𓆸 Poetry born from longing 𓆸 Words written in love and loss 𓆸 Melancholy, devotion, madness, beauty 𓆸 Literature‑inspired thoughts & visual poetry
Here, I offer daily fragments of feeling. Soulful poetry, profound sayings, and quiet confessions meant for those who still feel deeply. Each post is a small offering. Each line is a piece of my heart. I will write her so deeply into my words that those who read will beg to see Her.
People may take my lines. They may steal my words for fleeting likes, for borrowed praise and shallow followers. But they cannot love the way I do, because love like this demands devotion... what we call 'fanaa', the art of dissolving into the one you love, turning willingly to ashes, and rising only for them.
Because these words are not crafted by skill alone. They are paid for in sacrifice... in nights where devotion costs sleep, in prayers whispered into silence, in a heart willing to burn itself just to feel closer. You can take what I’ve written, but you cannot take the devotion behind it. That remains unstolen.
That part will always be unstolen.
✦ My other worlds ✦
I exist in more than one place. If this blog speaks to you, you may find me elsewhere, too:
✧ Tumblr (main / side blogs): sinr / poetic feelings ✧ BlueSky: sinr ✧ Instagram: s.sinr ✧ X / Twitter: ssinr_ ✧ Substack: si9r ✧ Other literary links: web
Every account carries the same soul, just written in different ink.
Thank you for being here. Thank you for reading slowly. Thank you for understanding that some words are paid for with a life.
“This world is full of poets, but she — she herself is poetry. So I write about her, because she smells like Eternal Love.”🥀 — a.sinr