If you were the moon,
steady and luminous,
I wish I were the clouds,
soft, and wandering.

I would be far, yet close enough,
drifting in silence,
to cradle your light,
and veil you gently.
In those fleeting moments,
we would embrace without a touch,
a dance of shadows and silver,
a love written in the sky.

Little things—
people call them chance,
or mere coincidences—
but I see them, feel them,
as your silent sign:
a promise of your love,
ever near, ever true,
listening to every word
I whisper into the void.

Not until you left
Not until you left did I realize I truly liked you
Not until you left did I realize I couldn't imagine my life with you
Not until you told me at the gates that you would leave someday
Not until I realized I would never like someone the way I liked the one that got away

Your mere existence,
brought calm to the chaos,
and was enough to still my world.

But I failed to see,
the cracks in your sky,
from the weight of your silent ache.

I asked for peace,
not knowing I sought it,
from a gentle heart already drowning.