passion
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The tilt of you, the fractures where the light slips in. I trace your doubts like constellations. Your mistakes beg for reverence, a desperate proof of life. I shaped you into a vision without weight, perfection hollowing all meaning until I warped your memory just to survive. There is no hesitation in standing bare, skin
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I once lived in the warmth of brown eyes, Believing they held all the light I needed. A gaze that wrapped my world in quiet surrender, Whispering promises, bending reason. But in a single moment, the color shifted, And what I knew unraveled into blue. Brown dissolved into a distant echo, While blue became the
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I used to think that love could make time stop, but he taught me time is irrelevant. He could infuriate me like no one else, and I don’t think I’ve ever been more exasperated with someone. I could never bring myself to intentionally hurt him. Yet, the fear of missing out on something so painfully
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One of my favorite quotes comes from a letter John Steinbeck wrote to his hopelessly romantic son. In it, he reminds him that love is real if he believes it to be so and encourages him to embrace it without fear. Steinbeck speaks tenderly about the many forms love can take, from selfish and cruel
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When I turn away he finds me A hand to my jaw a look I can’t outrun He doesn’t move like he’s thinking he moves like breath like instinct like the step between desire and permission We don’t speak in answers we speak in breath in steps in touches that say stay And eyes that
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As I’m writing this letter, I feel as if time with you isn’t enough. Your beautiful brown eyes haunt me and will continue to haunt me in every lifetime. You often wonder what goes on in my head, but it would drive you insane. Your smile is in every corner of my mind. Words that
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In the search for love, perhaps all a soul truly needs is to be present in Manhattan. Falling in love with New York City is a perilous affair, for it is not merely the city itself that captivates us, but rather the person we aspire to become, leaving behind the mediocrity of our past. When
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I’m used to this feeling. Moving on doesn’t hurt so much anymore. My feet stopped dragging last month. My lungs no longer feel on the verge of collapse. I think you conditioned a certain kind of break— somewhere between my kisses and hers. The realization hit quietly: wanting something—someone—too badly can take the fun out
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I want to know what you are thinking. Your thoughts are friends to my own. You’re a parable for my heart and a quiet dream in my mind. Your charm allows room for discussion and it’s admirable even with your faults. You hold your emotions behind your eyes, so do not demonize me for falling.
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I am attracted to your mind. How you recognize the value in persistence and the air of benignity that surrounds you. Your perception exudes beauty. When you laugh, it carries to my ears and your eyes turn brilliant. You are music to me. I believe in the rhythm of your virility. You gave birth to
Wishful Thinking 