I love you in the quiet ways in the pauses between messages, in the way my chest aches when I imagine you laughing and I’m not there to hear it. You live in the smallest details of my day. I catch myself saving stories just to tell you later, as if later is guaranteed. If love is a wound, then I bleed willingly. If it’s a prayer, then you are the name I keep repeating until it hurts and heals me at the same time.
Some nights I hold my phone like it might turn into you. Like if I stare long enough, the space between us will give up. I miss you in ways that don’t make sense missing the version of you I only know in my head, missing futures that haven’t happened yet. I ache softly. I wait patiently. I love you anyway.
There is a peace in loving you. A safety in knowing my heart chose right. I imagine slow mornings, your head on my chest, the world quiet for once. I imagine us not perfect, but real, and warm, and finally close. If this is love, then I am grateful. If this is my life, then I am lucky. And if you are mine, even for a moment that is enough to soften everything.
