I have found traces of intimacy in the mundane.
It is quiet, woven in daily rhythms
Beyond dialogue and loud performances
It is still -neatly folded in the background.
It’s in halfway smiles, that never ask to be noticed
In the rhythm of your walk—thunder some days,
shuffle on others—but always yours.
Its in the kind of silence that isn’t empty but shared.
The sacred hides in small rituals,
It lives in my sister’s mornings,
She hums half-songs as she gets ready for work -
shuffling through the rooms-doors left half open-clanking cups as she makes coffee- drifting into the shower, where minutes fall like water-the eternal race against the clock.
She scatters joy like prayer without knowing it, hymns of sunlight drift into corners of our home.
And yes, she’s late- again,
but her lateness feels like a warm gift.
This is how love arrives-
quietly, in the familiar,
asking only to be noticed.
Aug 18, 2025
Aug 18, 2025 at 10:43 AM UTC
It is said;
When lonely hearts meet, a cosmic show begins.
Dying stars awaken and dance once more.
Venus and all the brightest stars
Shift their hemispheres to catch a glimpse.
It's the coolest light show across space and time.
Okay, no one says that
Just me.
It was the simple things
Your warm alluring smile,
The different shapes your face would take
When you talked about mundane things,
The glimmer in your eyes when you got excited
And when you laughed-
When you laugh, a shooting star stops in her tracks to catch a glimpse.
With you,
My days are less empty
My heart less heavy
When you say my name
My lonely heart sings.
Then you left
And Now...
Jun 2, 2025
Jun 2, 2025 at 2:17 PM UTC