Loving you quietly
Two o’clock in the morning, eyes fixed on the ceiling, my mind everywhere and nowhere at once. Thoughts tangle. Sleep stays distant. And still, all I crave is you. I picture your brown eyes, the ones I fell into without knowing how to swim. I loved them so deeply I forgot how to see anyone else. Cruel, isn’t it how beauty can undo you so gently? I felt your soul and something in me leaned toward it, as if it had always known the way. Now every inch of distance carries weight. Your voice, a melody I reach for in silence, even as I resist calling your name this late. So I hold myself together. Let the feeling exist without placing it in your hands. Because love, like faith, sometimes asks for quiet, for patience, for trust without proof. It’s heavy, carrying it alone. But maybe that’s what love does, teaches you how to endure what you once thought impossible. I love your darkness as much as your light. Tell me every terrible thing you’ve ever done, I would not turn away. Just don’t keep ...