My thoughts stagger, trying to carry hopes heavy as heartbeats.
Two lovers, chest to chest, whispering, “_let’s talk soul to soul_,”
trying to make sense of a love story that hasn’t been written yet
—_a heart-to-heart moment,_ I keep dreaming of.
I tell myself: stay _focused_. But I’ve been tiptoeing through
daydreams, because chasing love too fast leaves you breathless
when it runs the other way. Cos everyone wants the highs of love,
but no one talks about the problems on the down low — the quiet
exits, the silent tears, the way loneliness can sneak in even when
someone’s lying right beside you.
Maybe it’s a late-night phone call — a sleepy “_goodnight, baby_”
before the line cuts out. Or a “_good morning_” text just to fold into
my memory like a note tucked beneath my pillow. Maybe it’s
wanting to tell you everything — not just the good, but the messy
middle parts too. Like you’re both my friend and my fire. Like you’re
the one who fits the empty spaces between the soft notes of this wild
birdsong my thoughts keep singing.
I want that kind of love. But I know relationships get complicated.
And honestly, I don’t miss _perfect_ — I miss _partnership_. I miss
the “_we got this_” when life gets heavy, the “_I’m here_,” even when
we don’t have the answers. It’s not a complicated thing — just
someone to solve life with me. To laugh when things crack. To stay
when the flaws start showing.
I want skin I can breathe in — __not just touch__. Someone who sees
my silence as depth, not distance. Who holds my flaws like fragile
truths, not defects to be fixed.
But maybe that’s too much to ask. Maybe that kind of love only exists
somewhere between sleep and memory. __I’m awake now__ — and I
don’t want to fall too deep just to find the woman of my dreams.
Jul 3, 2025
Jul 3, 2025 at 7:53 AM UTC
My thoughts stagger, trying to carry hopes heavy as heartbeats.
Two lovers, chest to chest, whispering, “_let’s talk soul to soul_,”
trying to make sense of a love story that hasn’t been written yet
—_a heart-to-heart moment,_ I keep dreaming of.
I tell myself: stay _focused_. But I’ve been tiptoeing through
daydreams, because chasing love too fast leaves you breathless
when it runs the other way. Cos everyone wants the highs of love,
but no one talks about the problems on the down low — the quiet
exits, the silent tears, the way loneliness can sneak in even when
someone’s lying right beside you.
Maybe it’s a late-night phone call — a sleepy “_goodnight, baby_”
before the line cuts out. Or a “_good morning_” text just to fold into
my memory like a note tucked beneath my pillow. Maybe it’s
wanting to tell you everything — not just the good, but the messy
middle parts too. Like you’re both my friend and my fire. Like you’re
the one who fits the empty spaces between the soft notes of this wild
birdsong my thoughts keep singing.
I want that kind of love. But I know relationships get complicated.
And honestly, I don’t miss _perfect_ — I miss _partnership_. I miss
the “_we got this_” when life gets heavy, the “_I’m here_,” even when
we don’t have the answers. It’s not a complicated thing — just
someone to solve life with me. To laugh when things crack. To stay
when the flaws start showing.
I want skin I can breathe in — __not just touch__. Someone who sees
my silence as depth, not distance. Who holds my flaws like fragile
truths, not defects to be fixed.
But maybe that’s too much to ask. Maybe that kind of love only exists
somewhere between sleep and memory. __I’m awake now__ — and I
don’t want to fall too deep just to find the woman of my dreams.
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