I choose the memory of your hands
cupping my face like a prayer.
I choose the stories you told,
woven into the quiet spaces of my heart.
I choose the castles, the palaces,
the old stone bridges you never saw,
but would have loved.
And your name –
you call it funny,
but to me, it rings like poetry,
the kind that arrives unannounced,
stays in your chest for days,
and reminds you of soft dawns,
of spring mornings
too perfect to repeat.
Moving on is not forgetting –
it’s letting the ashes settle,
letting the wind carry what remains,
while we walk forward,
hands empty, but hearts open
for the fires yet to come.
Time and again,
we push through the dark,
through the endless turning of days,
never surrendering,
never undone.
And so, I find myself craving you,
not out of need,
but out of a desire to share
this life I’ve built,
to blend our paths and
create something even more beautiful.
Because while I was happy in my world,
with you,
happiness has a new depth,
a richness I can’t ignore.
If only we could
chase the sunset
one last time
and be certain
of who you are to me
and who I am to you
then I can let go
as I know you have.
And we can carry on
with the night
apart, as it had been
cruelly written
May your dreams carry the beauty
you see so effortlessly in this world.
And may your heart,
when in the morning you rise,
feel the kindness you have given mine.
What I mean is –
my love expands
with each passing breath,
it grows in the quiet spaces
between your laughter and your sighs,
in the way your hands
move without thinking,
in the silence of shared moments
where words don’t need to exist.
Your absence pulls the world apart –
a thread unraveled from the fabric of the sky.
I search for you in the curve of the wind,
in the scent of rain,
in the way the earth turns, slow and steady,
but you are always beyond my reach,
like a flame that flickers
just before the dark swallows it whole.