Please, just love me.
I could be worshipped by every heartbeat in the world,
flooded with endless devotion, drowning in a thousand embraces,
and it would mean nothing.
Nothing but shadows on my skin,
warmth I cannot claim.

My soul recognises only yours.
It twists, it burns, it begs
to be intertwined with the shape of you,
the comfort of your voice,
the weight of your presence.
Every pulse in me is a map to you,
every sigh a confession you alone can read.

I am raw. I am open.
I am undone by your absence.
Love me. Please.
Or leave me here, a living ruin,
consumed by every love that is not yours…

My love,

Years have drifted by, yet still you rest inside me,
a gentle pulse I never wish to quiet.
You are the touch that lingers,
the memory I reach for like light through glass,
because to lose you would be to lose myself.

You woke the world to color:
every cell learned its purpose in the warmth of you.
You were not a passing love,
you were the one who taught my body how to be awake,
how joy could be a kind of undoing, a holy intoxication.

No other face has translated desire the way yours did,
not silver screens, not stray glances, not midnight imaginings.
Attraction for me is your laugh, the heat of your small mercies,
the map of your breath against my skin.

Even now we sit on opposite sides of the same glass,
hearts pressed to the cold, waiting and watching.
I carry a strange, unshakable knowing,
you keep a light for me in some secret room of your own.
I feel it; I live in that soft, stubborn certainty.

So, stripped to the bone of words and circumstance:
I miss you. I yearn for you.
My simplest, most ferocious wish is small and honest,
to find myself in your arms again, where the searching ends,
and at last, I am home.

How selfish of me,
to crave a happy ever after,
when I have already tasted forever
in a fleeting moment with you.

It was enough
to carve your name into my bones,
to make the world without you
feel smaller, emptier, colourless.

And yet…
if once was all I was given,
if forever was just a heartbeat,
then I would choose it again.
And again.
And again.

Because even as a wound…
our love was still the sweetest eternity.

People say to me:
“I’m so sorry you’re heartbroken.
I hope you heal soon.”

But what they don’t understand is,
I am grateful to have loved so deeply
that even heartbreak
doesn’t taste bitter,
and that even sorrow
has a sweetness to it.

Great loss can only come
from losing something truly great.
So I welcome the weight,
because I know
I once held the rarest,
most exquisite form of love.

I am privileged to have known it,
to have understood
what I was given.

And yes, sometimes it hurts.
But sometimes,
the memory of your smile
lights up the darkest corners of my soul.

I still feel our love
swirling in the quiet spaces between thoughts,
like a steady, unspoken truth.

Sacred love accepts the pain.
It does not twist it
into anger or resentment.

It carries it
as witness
to the heaven
we once lived.

Can you hear my voice
screaming into the void?
Can you feel me loving you
in the silence?
Do you know me
in the blur between seasons,
when time loses meaning,
and memories breathe like now?

I saw you in a way
that I’d know your playlist
in any lifetime,
any universe,
and even in the ones
where you break me,
I’d still press play.
That’s how our souls
speak in the silence.