You call me SJ, and baby, I melt,
Like somehow you know exactly how I want to be felt.
You flood my screen with a thousand I love you’s,
And I read every one, like a secret only we two can use.
You send me glimpses — your travels, your feasts, your days,
Little mosaics of you, in the most tender displays.
I bare to you my world — my hopes, my scars, my years,
And you cradle them gently, guarding my innocence and fears.
You drive me mad with your late replies,
Then steal my anger with that boyish smile in your eyes.
We haven’t met — not skin, not hand,
But your words have touched me deeper than anyone ever planned.
I wait for the day we finally collide,
Heart pounding, nerves and joy side by side.
But a whisper creeps in — what if it all feels wrong?
Will it feel the same? Will the spark still ignite?
Baby, I think we’ll burn even brighter that night.
One day we’ll tell them — how strange it all began,
How we met, and met, and met again.
Each goodbye just a pause, never the end,
Because somehow, you always bring me back again.
Until every leaving only circles back to where it began,
To you — my home, my safe place, my favorite man.
Until then… keep calling me SJ,
And I’ll keep calling you Subba, Vinzi, Vinzee —
Every name my heart invents for the man who feels like home.
