#loveandconnection
History writes itself, becoming like the sun;
surrounded by stars, surround-sound chaos
singing through all of us. Bodies built from
utensils; food for thought the only menu we
ever trusted.
Claims of someone, feeling like magic on
the tongue; sweet enough to make silence
blush, warm enough to soften every cold
place inside your ribs.
Bones, muscle, presence— that’s all we
are at first; until touch teaches the body
another kind of language. Still waters in
words, spring resting in a garden; to grow
gently upon one's earth, like rain finally
meeting their land; landing on soil tired
of thirst.
To learn somebody slowly, eye by eye,
breath by breath; the scent of their soul
opening up, like orchids after dark.
Love, making history of us both;
ploughing open guarded hearts, planting
trust beneath skin, finding connection
in the trembling bloom of being fully felt.
And maybe that’s why history will
always write itself— because human
hearts have always longed to be touched
deeply enough, to grow.
May 14
May 14, 2026 at 4:17 PM UTC
She must’ve heard my voice crack
the first time we spoke— looking back,
my mind clock ticks slow; rewinding moments
like they mean more the second time shown.
Tasked with watching my thoughts— maybe
a chronicle of us; feelings don’t copy… still,
I paste my heart into your hands— select all,
delete… retype it all again.
“You’re my type,” she said— and suddenly
I type with intent; less error, more focus—
every word felt spent and sent with purpose.
Then I compared you to a rising flower—
you, a rose on your own terms, a picture I revisit,
again and again, pulling more from the frame;
A Mona Lisa in motion: beauty I study,
but never fully name. I’ve grown accustomed
to my feelings, custom-built walls for my heart;
but you turned this custom into a customer—
and I bought in your beauty... every part.
A game I didn’t mind losing, investing in all
your worth; and somehow…it was worth
the voice I chose to respond with first.
May 3
May 3, 2026 at 3:54 PM UTC