There is a world that only exists
in the space between your breath and mine.
A place where time forgets to move,
where even silence is poetry.

Your touch is not a touch;
it is the echo of galaxies colliding,
the hum of stardust settling into skin.
When you look at me,
it feels like every version of myself
is being seen for the very first time.

You do not love me with words—
you love me in the way your hands linger
just a moment longer than they need to,
in the way your voice softens
when you say my name,
as if it is the most fragile thing you’ve ever held.

I have been afraid of so many things:
of breaking, of losing, of being too much—
but with you, I am unafraid.
You’ve made a home of me,
in the ruins I once called unworthy.

If love were a prayer,
yours would be the only one I’d ever need.
If love were a place,
it would be the shadow of your heart
against the light of mine.

Stay, not because I ask you to,
but because you already have—
in every breath, every word,
in every dream where I find you waiting.