She once lit lanterns for everyone else, folding each farewell into a silent prayer, naming the wind after broken promises. Her harbor grew hollow as ships slipped away into fog — and every return was only a ghost she dared not greet.

This is the dock no one returns to.
A heart no one stays in.
A single pillow worn thin, a name etched in frost on the window.

She writes her longing in salt, asks the sea if tides can turn, but the waves only answer in drowning and the stars retreat behind clouds. Love was always a ship without anchor, mistaking her for safe harbor, then fading into the night.

Let violins weep for all the years she stayed silent; let dreams drift in empty bottles over moonless waters.
And when the chorus swells, it’s not for a welcome — it’s for the waiting.

This is the dock, yes—
where even the moon turns away.

And yet she waits—
not for a ship,
but for a reason
to dismantle the shore.

The Dock No One Returns To

Hello, dreamers and seekers — it’s me, SanaA Bova.
I want to open this new chapter with a confession.
through my music...

I am a writer and poet who studies psychology and the deepest emotions of the soul. My music is a reflection of my inner state, which has shifted to melodies.

The Dock No One Returns To

Bova Team