Do you know,
when the air stills between us, I leave it heavy with unsaid things?
That every pause in our conversation is a breath I hold
to keep from spilling the truth I carry like a fragile glass?

I wonder if you see it, the way I turn phrases too carefully,
as if each word might accidentally confess.
If you notice the silence that blooms in the spaces where I long to place your name,
or the way I linger on your laughter
as though it were a song I’m afraid to lose.

There’s a gravity to this quiet.
It pulls me closer to you, yet I hold my distance,
hoping you might look back and see it—
the shadow of my love, standing patiently beside me,
aching for you to recognize it.

Do you know?
When I look at you,
I’m writing love letters in my mind,
every glance a line, every smile a verse,
every heartbeat screaming its question into the void:

Can you hear me?