My breath belongs in my lungs, but my chest found a home inside
your heart— then I cut pieces off myself just to hold a piece of you.
Every embrace feels like a crowded room: your tight mannerisms
wrapped around that pretty smile, your colours shifting between
words; shapes changing into the version longing keeps sculpting.
Maybe I’m the well dug too deep— a spiritual mirror of the man I
keep trying to be, the one who could lie beside you in peace, long
enough to remember what softness feels like. Your lips meet mine
so gently that the moment breathes through both our pores; your
presence pulls and pushes at once—push me away, and somehow
your pull grows stronger.
I fall back into that familiar gravity. You speak, and I listen through
the seven levels of understanding; I try to translate us through the
five love languages, into the three words you hesitate to confess,
toward the one truth we both circle around.
And all along, it only takes two— _You and I_, to subtract the whole
count down to its core: I guess love is always the equation reduced
to the simplest form.
Dec 6, 2025
Dec 6, 2025 at 8:56 AM UTC
My breath belongs in my lungs, but my chest found a home inside
your heart— then I cut pieces off myself just to hold a piece of you.
Every embrace feels like a crowded room: your tight mannerisms
wrapped around that pretty smile, your colours shifting between
words; shapes changing into the version longing keeps sculpting.
Maybe I’m the well dug too deep— a spiritual mirror of the man I
keep trying to be, the one who could lie beside you in peace, long
enough to remember what softness feels like. Your lips meet mine
so gently that the moment breathes through both our pores; your
presence pulls and pushes at once—push me away, and somehow
your pull grows stronger.
I fall back into that familiar gravity. You speak, and I listen through
the seven levels of understanding; I try to translate us through the
five love languages, into the three words you hesitate to confess,
toward the one truth we both circle around.
And all along, it only takes two— _You and I_, to subtract the whole
count down to its core: I guess love is always the equation reduced
to the simplest form.
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