You see my love,
my delulu is the size of the Pacific…
wide, restless, unending.
It never runs dry,
so I drink from it
like breath depends on it.
I want a home
where romance is not an occasion
but the order of the day.
We may not be from Rome,
but tell me
since when did love need a location to be legendary?
I am drama in human form,
so I need you to be my theatre.
Hold my chaos like a stage holds light.
Let us paint loudly
until the world grows quiet
just to study our colors.
You see, Hayati,
they say marriage is not always rosy.
I believe them…
but I also believe in rebellion.
So how about we rewrite it?
Let’s build a house
that echoes laughter
even when life forgets our address.
A home where love lives so deeply,
our children learn it as their first language…
and leaving us feels like forgetting a part of themselves.
Let’s build an empire,
not just of wealth
but of name, of warmth, of memory.
Something our children’s children
will wear like comfort on cold days.
A family that celebrates loudly,
even in disagreement.
A bond that bends,
but never breaks.
You see, my delulu whispers
that we could be perfection
not in flawlessness,
but in choosing each other
again and again
in an imperfect world.
And no…
I am not entirely lost in illusion.
So I pray,
that when reality comes knocking,
we have already built something so intentional,
so rooted,
that even life’s harshest winds
pause at our door.
And although you,
my Mr. Right,
are yet to righteously find me…
I will keep writing us into existence
softly, patiently
until our paths remember each other.
Mar 30
Mar 30, 2026 at 8:07 AM UTC
You see my love,
my delulu is the size of the Pacific…
wide, restless, unending.
It never runs dry,
so I drink from it
like breath depends on it.
I want a home
where romance is not an occasion
but the order of the day.
We may not be from Rome,
but tell me
since when did love need a location to be legendary?
I am drama in human form,
so I need you to be my theatre.
Hold my chaos like a stage holds light.
Let us paint loudly
until the world grows quiet
just to study our colors.
You see, Hayati,
they say marriage is not always rosy.
I believe them…
but I also believe in rebellion.
So how about we rewrite it?
Let’s build a house
that echoes laughter
even when life forgets our address.
A home where love lives so deeply,
our children learn it as their first language…
and leaving us feels like forgetting a part of themselves.
Let’s build an empire,
not just of wealth
but of name, of warmth, of memory.
Something our children’s children
will wear like comfort on cold days.
A family that celebrates loudly,
even in disagreement.
A bond that bends,
but never breaks.
You see, my delulu whispers
that we could be perfection
not in flawlessness,
but in choosing each other
again and again
in an imperfect world.
And no…
I am not entirely lost in illusion.
So I pray,
that when reality comes knocking,
we have already built something so intentional,
so rooted,
that even life’s harshest winds
pause at our door.
And although you,
my Mr. Right,
are yet to righteously find me…
I will keep writing us into existence
softly, patiently
until our paths remember each other.
