alice’s love letters

to miss you is to prove that you exist somewhere beyond me.
and that thought alone is enough to keep me tethered.

i am learning you slowly, like a language i don’t want to rush.
every word, every silence, every almost-touch.

it happened quietly, and then all at once.
no warning, no careful unfolding—just a sudden shift where everything became you.

i loved you before i understood what love meant.
before language caught up to feeling, before time gave it edges.

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.

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.

I keep finding you in the quietest places.
In the pause before a thought finishes itself.
In the moment you almost reach for your phone and don’t.

There are things I no longer touch, not because they were evil, but because they asked too much of me. I learned that devotion is not loud. It is a daily returning. It is choosing to stay when leaving would be easier.