These are letters I never meant to send.
Some were written in the dark, some after joy, some while trying to stay.
They are not instructions you must follow.
They are offerings, left here gently.
If something here helps you breathe, keep it.
If you are here, you were meant to be addressed.
-
yearning is a kind of devotion
to miss you is to prove that you exist somewhere beyond me.
and that thought alone is enough to keep me tethered. -
new love, trembling
i am learning you slowly, like a language i don’t want to rush.
every word, every silence, every almost-touch. -
the first time my heart opened
it happened quietly, and then all at once.
no warning, no careful unfolding—just a sudden shift where everything became you. -
the shape of you before you arrived
i loved you before i understood what love meant.
before language caught up to feeling, before time gave it edges. -
waiting like a window
i leave the light on for something that has never arrived.
not out of habit, but out of hope—the kind that lingers in corners, soft and unshaken. -
where nothing demands a name
Sometimes I think you forget how strange it is, how quietly miraculous.
I watch you, unremarkable to the world but radiant in ways no one can name.
