The collection
This love of ours is the weight of every lifetime the children we bore, the joys we shared, the dreams that filled our hearts. I have loved you through it all, and as I sit here now, I feel the same love burning inside me, as if no time has passed at all.
I have loved you in ways I cannot name, in lifetimes I cannot remember, yet I know you, always, as if the universe herself has written us into the stars, over and over again.
Hair rose at the back of my neck as I wrote, as if time itself ran its fingers along my spine, reminding me of what I could not outrun. The ticking, louder now, echoed in the quiet, each beat a hammer, each second a pulse I couldn’t ignore.
I’m sorry, forgive me – these words feel too small for the space between us, but they are all I have. I love you, and with trembling hands, I give you back to the universe, with all the love, all the gratitude I can gather in this broken heart.
We only ever move forward, step by step, leaving behind what was – not in regret, but with a gentle nod, as the sun tips over the edge of the world, stretching shadows that grow long, then fade.
There is no translation for the way my heart leaps or the way your presence stills every storm. When I say “I love you,” so much is missed – what I mean is everything.
your eyes are (tiny moons) pulling the tides of my heart, and your laugh is a comet flashing across this canvas of forgotten worlds.
Our talks linger in my mind, woven with laughter and whispers, the light things, the heavy things, all falling into place like they had always belonged there. You have this way of understanding without needing to speak, a way of holding me without a single touch.
Waking to the sound of rain on my window, the steady rhythm of drops against the glass, I stir, bone-tired but smiling, grateful for this gentle greeting from the world. The kind of morning where weariness feels like a badge earned, not a burden.