He watches the moon day by day,
Observing its nightly display.
But he doesn't quite see,
That the moon shines for him, wild and free.

No…
Let the stars go dim, let the sky forget my name,
I’ll burn the sun out of spite if it means I can stay—
right here,
beside the hush of his breath,
the world outside can hold its death.

Heaven, wait.
Don’t press your gates—
He’s here,
and I’m not done yet.

Let the angels pout, let trumpets mute,
I’d trade eternity for the whisper of his “don’t go,”
soft and low,
like dusk folding over our skin.
Let the cosmos spin without me—
his kiss is the only holy thing.

If time dared to pull him forward,
moved him on, moved him gone—
I’d flip fate backward,
slide through light-years just to belong
again in his hold,
wild and warm and bold.

Can’t stand— no,
I can’t stand to see
some stranger’s lips stealing my symphony,
hands tracing what only mine should know.
No.

I’d drown the clock, freeze the moon’s pull,
erase history with one scream,
if it meant he stayed in this dream.

I’d fall from heaven—
again and again—
if that’s the cost to
breathe him in.

I let
love
cons(you)(me)

I want to know all of your secrets—the ones you won’t even dare to say out loud because they sit heavy on your chest when you try to speak them.
I want to be the silence you trust, the breath you take before the truth spills out.

I want you to hug me when one of us has to leave,
while the other clings, quietly begging for five more seconds of warmth.

I want you to kiss me—softly on the cheek,
then gently on my forehead,
and slowly, like a promise, on the back of my hand.

I want to hold you close in the kind of silence that says everything.
To rest my head on your shoulder when I’m tired,
to feel your heartbeat through your hoodie.
To make you tea when you’re sick,
and stay up late just to check if you’re breathing better.

I want to love you softly.
And I want you to love me gently.

I want to whisper sweet things in your ear,
to feel your laughter vibrate through your chest when you giggle.
I want to scream from the edge of a cliff that you’re mine—
not like ownership,
but like belonging.
Like coming home.

I want to love you the way songs are written about.
The kind of love that lingers on pillowcases and in half-sent texts.

I want to see what your face looks like in the morning—
half-asleep, hair a little messy,
eyes blinking slowly like the day hasn’t quite reached you yet.
I want to kiss your sleepy smile
and press my fingertips to the soft space where your neck meets your shoulder.

I want to sit next to you in quiet cafés,
legs tangled under the table,
your hand brushing mine just because it wants to.

I want to listen to you talk about things you love,
even if I don’t understand them.
I want to watch your eyes light up and fall for you all over again
just because of how much you care.

I want to argue with you about the silliest things—and then I want to make up by kissing you on the nose
and watching you try not to smile.

I want to miss you when you’re gone,
the kind of missing that wraps around my chest like a ribbon,
reminding me that love stretches across distance.

I want to lie next to you on a rainy afternoon,
your chest rising and falling under my cheek,
while the world outside slows down
and we forget what time is.

I want to do everything with you,
but I also want to do nothing with you.

I want to love you in a way that never asks for perfection,
only presence.

I want to see you.
All of you.
And I want you to let me.

And finally,
I want you.

I can't wait for spring
when its officially mine
flower fields in my mind
lets lay down
bathe in the sun
seven playing in the background...

beautiful
so he calls me
take a look in the mirror
has he seen his face?
has he seen his soul?
oh the potential of us together
he's something new
just like the springtime
everything comes back to life
makes everything new again
what more can I explain
he is spring