and I have loved you through all of our seasons tangled in the exhalation of our life, from the dawn that whispered your name to me in a secret it could not keep.



and I have loved you from the first and then in the shadows of lost yesterdays, where light refused to fade, and dreams danced on the edges of our shared possibilities.



and I have loved you though moiling in the smoky haze of the crowded world, the business of tedium made wondrous by division, the unexpected that you laughed at but challenged my soul.



and I have loved you through the twilight's golden touch, tracing the lines of our destiny upon the canvas of night, where every star had found its place in your eyes.



and you, the weaver of worlds unseen, the sculptor of the moon's soft glow, found in my embrace the solace of ancient shores, caught in the cradle of time.



and I have loved you in the quietude of evening's last light, carrying homeward the shared fulfilment of a day and a life, where every moment we breathed together our unity.



to the depths of a love that knows no boundaries, no end, but the endless embrace of forevermore, and I, a humble witness to your splendour, have held you close,



and I have loved you to your very bones.

The echoes hum of paths not taken,
soft as sighs the wind has spun,
whispers trace the dreams forsaken,
things undone, the race unrun.

A fleeting glance, a step unsteady,
a hand not held, a word unsaid,
a love that lingered, never ready,
a spark that burned but quickly fled.

The door half-open, never entered,
the letter lost upon the tide,
a name once spoken, now surrendered,
to silence deep and time denied.

Regret, a shadow, lingers lowly,
mourning what we failed to claim,
yet life moves on, though sad and slowly,
softly sighing just the same.

You hold my words like treasures,
tucking them away in the folds of your heart,
saving each photo, each whisper,
as if they are pieces of me you never want to lose.

You say my name like it’s something soft,
something safe, something yours.
I hear it in the way you miss me,
in the way you tell me I’m beautiful,
as if the word was meant only for me.

Every little message, every sleepy thought,
you catch them, hold them, answer them—
never letting them fade into silence.
You listen, you see me, all of me,
not just what the world sees, but what I am.

You don’t just want my touch,
you want my mind, my dreams, my poetry.
You let me be the poet, and you, my muse—
but I think you are the real poem,
the kind that lingers long after the words are read.

And if love is a dream, then let me never wake,
because with you, every moment feels real.