I do not chase stars like I once did,
But some nights, I still look up.
Not for answers—just for quiet company.
That used to be enough. Maybe it is again.

I no longer dream in declarations.
No promises carved into stone.
Just laughter that lingers longer than expected,
And silences that don’t feel like absence.

Love is no longer a rescue mission,
Or a war I have to survive.
It is a rhythm, a breath I return to
Without holding it hostage.

There was a time I closed every door
To keep the ache from finding me.
Now, I leave one slightly ajar—
Just enough for light. Just enough for maybe.