I wrote you again, though I knew you forgot, In ink made of tears that reality blot.

I mailed it to nowhere, just let the wind take-Each word a confession, each line a mistake.

Your voice is a phantom that lives in my phone,

I play the old echoes when I'm most alone.

Reply never came-but still, I believe, That silence just means you don't want me to grieve.

I want to hold her hand when we cross the street
Even if she rolls her eyes and says
"I'm not a kid".
Send her sleepy voice notes way too late
Just to say "Hey... I miss you" That's it.

I want to watch the rain with her,
make fries in her favorite shirt.
I want to dance with her in the
kitchen light,
to songs from her playlist, every random night.

I want to pull her close in the
middle of the chores,
She'll pretend to be annoyed – but still
ask for moreee.

I want to fight over dumb little stuff—
like why she never finishes her coffee cup
How she hides my snacks out of sight
but somehow still blames me mid-fight.

I don't want perfect. That's not us.
I want the missed calls, the awkward hugs.
I'm not writing this to impress or prove
I'm writing because she's my every move.

All I'm saying - let's give love a chance, not the movie kind, just a clumsy dance.

With awkward silences and random fights, with holding on through sleepless nights.

Not some perfect picture people frame, just your voice when you softly say my name. Let's not plan forever, just today, and maybe stay when it's easier to walk away.

I don't promise magic, I don't promise ease, but I swear I'll choose you, even on tired knees.

So if your heart's been hurt, I get that glance all I'm saying is... let's give love a chance.

I love her —
not in the loud, movie-scene kind of way,
but in the way I notice when she’s tired,
when she fake-smiles,
when she pulls her sleeves over her hands like she’s hiding from the world.
I love her in the details —
how she hums when she’s thinking,
how she talks like she’s okay when she’s clearly not.
it’s not perfect, it’s not easy —
but it’s real.
like choosing her even when she’s distant,
like showing up even when she pushes away.
I love her —
in quiet ways she might never fully see,
but I do.
God, I really do.

He blinks through the blur of another 3 a.m.,

a prisoner of thoughts that visit again.

His eyes, like glass, hold stories untold, heavy with battles that never grow old.

Coffee cools on the table nearby, his fourth cup tonight, he doesn't ask why.

Not for the taste, not for the heat-just something to hold in the cold of defeat.

You never wrote back, but I read every line—

In letters I dreamed up and signed in your sign.

They came in the wind or the drip of the sink,

In shadows that pause just a moment to think.

I fed on illusions, I watered my pain,

I swore that your absence would soon explain.

But days turn to years, and still I believe,

That ghosts only vanish when we stop to grieve.


---nyn

I walk through nights that have no end, Where shadows stretch and stars pretend.

The silence hums a lullaby, To all the tears I never cry.

My thoughts, like ghosts, begin to creep, Through empty rooms where memories sleep.

Each heartbeat echoes down the hall-A quiet proof I felt it all.

No voice replies, no light will stay, Just hollow echoes fade away.