In the quiet of this moment,
I hear your heart,
and I persist,
though shadows may linger,
I won't be the ghost you fear.
For love, though it wears many faces,
does not vanish in the dark.
It breathes in the space between us,
steadfast,
even when the words fail to form.
You are not alone in this,
not in the silence,
not in the weight of unspoken things.
I am here —
not a vow on your finger,
but a presence beside you,
steady or maybe wobbly,
a flame that follows
even when the world grows cold.
Let me be the devil
who doesn't promise but persists,
even when it feels like everything else fades.
Perhaps we are all haunted,
trapped in the spaces between breaths,
where hope whispers in shadows,
and memory stains like ink on skin.
We speak of forever,
but the weight of the word slips through our fingers
like sand,
and what remains are echoes
of things we once believed we could hold.
In the quiet between heartbeats,
I too have stood,
not yet ready to name the ghosts
that linger,
not yet ready to say goodbye
to the illusions we built in silence.
But even in the dark,
there is a tenderness in knowing
that hope, however fleeting,
was never meant to be perfect —
only felt.
