I don’t know if I should write this,
if the words belong on paper,
or only in the quiet corners of my chest.
I want to tell you
how every time you lean close,
my heart forgets its rhythm.
How your laugh
settles like sunlight
in the hollow spaces I didn’t know I had.
How your hand brushing mine
feels like gravity I didn’t want to escape.
I want to tell you
that I love you —
not in loud declarations,
not in fireworks or speeches,
but in the way I notice
the small things only you do:
the tilt of your head,
the way your hair falls across your eyes,
the soft glimmer in your smile
when you think I’m not looking.
I want to tell you
that I’ve carried this quietly,
that I’ve circled your orbit
like a moon
too afraid to crash,
too afraid to ask
if you feel it too.
I want to ask
if you’ve noticed me,
truly noticed me,
as more than a friend —
that has always lingered
on the same thought I can’t stop thinking.
But I can’t.
I can’t risk the fragile gravity we share.
I can’t risk losing
the easy comfort, the closeness,
the way we exist together
without a single word ruining it.
So this letter will stay
folded in my chest,
hidden in the spaces between heartbeats,
a constellation of everything I wish
I could tell you,
if only I were brave enough.
Mar 30
Mar 30, 2026 at 8:09 PM UTC
I don’t know if I should write this,
if the words belong on paper,
or only in the quiet corners of my chest.
I want to tell you
how every time you lean close,
my heart forgets its rhythm.
How your laugh
settles like sunlight
in the hollow spaces I didn’t know I had.
How your hand brushing mine
feels like gravity I didn’t want to escape.
I want to tell you
that I love you —
not in loud declarations,
not in fireworks or speeches,
but in the way I notice
the small things only you do:
the tilt of your head,
the way your hair falls across your eyes,
the soft glimmer in your smile
when you think I’m not looking.
I want to tell you
that I’ve carried this quietly,
that I’ve circled your orbit
like a moon
too afraid to crash,
too afraid to ask
if you feel it too.
I want to ask
if you’ve noticed me,
truly noticed me,
as more than a friend —
that has always lingered
on the same thought I can’t stop thinking.
But I can’t.
I can’t risk the fragile gravity we share.
I can’t risk losing
the easy comfort, the closeness,
the way we exist together
without a single word ruining it.
So this letter will stay
folded in my chest,
hidden in the spaces between heartbeats,
a constellation of everything I wish
I could tell you,
if only I were brave enough.
Everything I wish I could say --- but won't.
