What I feel for you is a song without words,
a gentle ache that hums beneath my ribs.
Your name slips in like sunlight through curtains,
soft, inevitable, a warmth that blooms in the quiet of my chest.
I treasure everything.
The brush of your laugh, the warmth of a glance,
moments that stretch through time.
I carry you in my thoughts,
a quiet devotion, tender and unshakable, like a prayer that I softly whisper.
And in the stillness, you linger
like the very air I breathe,
the very thing that keeps me alive.
Jan 1
Jan 1, 2026 at 1:44 PM UTC
What I feel for you is a song without words,
a gentle ache that hums beneath my ribs.
Your name slips in like sunlight through curtains,
soft, inevitable, a warmth that blooms in the quiet of my chest.
I treasure everything.
The brush of your laugh, the warmth of a glance,
moments that stretch through time.
I carry you in my thoughts,
a quiet devotion, tender and unshakable, like a prayer that I softly whisper.
And in the stillness, you linger
like the very air I breathe,
the very thing that keeps me alive.
