Mi Cielo—my heaven above.
The words were foreign,
but the feeling was always home.
That’s what I called him—
softly, lovingly—
even when our languages
couldn’t quite hold each other.

But I held onto what mattered:
the meaning.
Because in my heart,
he was never a stranger.
He was part of me,
the part I couldn’t let go of,
even when nothing made sense.

I never imagined he’d drift—
become someone I couldn’t reach.
He was mine in the only way that mattered,
a light I thought would never dim.

I didn’t want him to feel far,
didn’t want silence
to be the loudest thing between us.
I just wanted closeness—
always.
I wanted forever.

Things are different now.
But still, in the quiet parts of me,
you’ll always be Mi Cielo—
my heaven,
my heart.