a stranger looks up,

blue light still ghosting their skin,

and for a heartbeat, the world turns

on the curve of their lips.

A smile, unremarkable yet

quaking with everything:

the weight of unsaid kindness,

the miracle of being noticed.

I carry that moment like a flame.

And suddenly, I see—

the way reflections shimmer

on rain-slick streets,

how laughter hums from a coffee shop corner,

how a breeze through the open window

whispers secrets to the curtains.

Love is not thunder.

It is this:

the peeling paint on a park bench,

a freckle tucked on the underside of a wrist,

a dog's ears lifting at the sound of home.

It is the ripple of a pond

after a stone is thrown,

the way it keeps reaching outward,

a quiet insistence that something small

can still make waves.

I start to notice—

how mornings hold their breath

before the city wakes,

how even broken things

catch the light in the right angle.

A flower cracks the concrete,

a child waves to their own shadow.

The air feels alive, charged

with the sacred hum of the unnoticed.

And you—when was the last time

you looked up?

Saw the sun breaking like glass over a skyline,

or caught a melody in the murmur of voices?

When did you last marvel

at the softness of someone’s hands

or the constellations stitched across their face?

The stranger smiled,

and it was enough—

enough to remind me

that we are stitched to this world

by threads we barely see,

threads woven from eye contact,

from the warmth of being witnessed.

Then there was you.

Not just a meeting, but a becoming.

Not a stranger anymore, but the steady rhythm

I didn’t know I needed.

You are the pause in the chaos,

the stillness in a world spinning too fast.

Not just my anchor,

but the harbor where I rest.

You are the one who stays,

even when the tide pulls at the edges,

even when the distance stretches long and wide.

Every mile you drive to see me

is a testament to the kind of love

that doesn’t falter,

a love that feels like coming home.

You hold space for the small things—

how I take my coffee,

the songs that quiet my mind.

You make the long drive every day,

because being near is its own kind of love,

its own quiet revolution.

You listen, even when the words stumble,

even when they tangle in silence.

And somehow, in the little things,

you’ve taught me

what it feels like to be known.

You make me feel loved like never before—

a love that lingers

in the space between moments,

like the light that stays on your face

when you smile,

or the quiet after the tide recedes,

leaving the world softer,

more alive.

I think of the ripple again,

how it grows,

how it fades,

but how it always begins the same.

It starts so small—

a stranger looks up,

and the world begins to turn.

It isn’t a feeling either.

Love is a choice, one you make every day.

Love is the thing that makes you stay.

I used to think love was butterflies,

Something fleeting and

Beautiful, yet temporary.

Then I met you.

You showed me that love is found in the little things.

In the quiet.

In the patience.

In choosing someone every single day.

It’s the way you make me feel safe,

Like I never have to question whether I’m enough.

It’s the peace I find in your embrace,

The comfort of simply being beside you because our arms feel more like home than any place I’ve ever known.

You make ordinary moments my favorite memories.

A late-night drive.

A shared silence.

Your hand in mine.

Sometimes I wonder how God could know my heart so well.

Then I remember that He writes the best stories.

And somehow, He wrote you into mine.

You are one of His greatest gifts to me.

Not because you’re perfect,

But because the way you love me

Makes me understand His love a little more.

So when people ask me what love is,

I won’t talk about flowers,

Or grand gestures,

Or perfect moments.

I’ll simply smile…

Because love is you.

And if I spend the rest of my life

Thanking God for bringing you into it,

I still don’t think I’d thank Him enough.

not because my world is small,

but because he makes every part of it brighter,

fuller,

and worth sharing.

the answer to prayers i didn't even know i was praying

my biggest supporter,

my safest place,

and the only person who has ever made love feel this easy.

the light that made me realize how dark i was living before.

it tells the deepest story.

it allows the reader to imagine their own ending,

finding the answer they were looking for.

it poses questions about the author that cannot be answered,

unfinished poetry is extremely poetic.

the war between them is too strong.

who will be brighter? stronger? smarter?

who will out play the other?

but you see that was never the problem rather the solution;

the real problem was the love they had.

when the sun goes down the moon rises up;

they cared.

but then the stars came and ruined their love.

little bursts of joy surrounded the moon when the sun wasn’t there,

and over time they grew distant because stars didn’t like to share.

so the sun shines alone,

makes the days long;

gives off the heat that u hear in each summer song.

it gives out the jealousy of not being next to the moon,

it gives out the very best it could without u.

i miss u sometimes but it’s ok

because i always knew that one day

you would change.

so sure the days are long and the loneliness is new,

but i watch u from below and see how happy u grew.

without me ur life is never the same,

without u my life didn’t really change.

because i am the sun and the world revolves around me,

but u are the moon with the stars in harmony.

and in the end we both make life bright,

but i wake up everyday hoping that u might

realize ur mistake and come back to me forevermore

so that the sun and the moon could shine together like before

except the moon doesn’t shine with the sun anymore