Two hearts on one journey 🫂🌎

Chapter 5: The Gravity of Us☄️🪐

Love, like the scent of jasmine on a summer evening, lingers in places you least expect. It wraps itself around you, soft but unyielding, a memory that doesn't fade no matter how far you go.

When I close my eyes at night, I don't just dream—I reach for the memory of you. I summon the feeling of your warmth against me, the gentle weight of your head resting on my chest. For a moment, the distance disappears, and the world feels whole again. But when I open my eyes, the air feels thinner, and the ache of your absence presses against my ribs.

Your laugh echoes in my mind, a melody so sweet it could make the roses blush. It's the sound I chase when the silence grows too loud. I think about how it feels to make you smile—like watching sunlight pour through a stained-glass window, a kaleidoscope of colors dancing on the walls of my soul.

If I could bottle the memory of you, it would smell like wild honey and lavender—something sweet, calming, yet untamed. It would carry the warmth of your touch and the sparkle in your eyes when you talk about your dreams.

To hold you again would be like holding the first breath of spring after a long winter. I'd run my fingers along the curve of your jaw, marveling at the softness of your skin. I'd let my hands memorize every inch of you, committing you to a language only my fingertips could speak.

Love, I've learned, is a storm and a stillness. It's in the moments of shared silence and in the fireworks of our conversations, where words crash like waves yet leave me craving more. It's knowing that even with all the space between us, you are my home.

I think about us walking together, your hand in mine, the world fading into the background like a distant hum. You'd smell of vanilla and rain—soft, comforting, but electric, as though the universe paused to inhale you.

When I see you again, I'll whisper everything I couldn't say over the phone. I'll tell you how your love is a garden I never want to stop tending, how your voice feels like a compass guiding me home. I'll kiss you like it's the first and last time, savoring every second, every taste of you, like honey on my lips.

Distance cannot dilute the depth of this love—it only sharpens its edges, making it impossible to ignore. You are my sunrise, my quiet moonlight, the spark that turns ordinary moments into magic.

If love could be painted, ours would be a masterpiece. Each stroke would tell a story of longing and joy, of tears cried in the dark and laughter shared in the light. And in its center, there would be us, together, the picture of forever.