I met them wrapped in color, hair like dusk split by a prism’s glow,
their voice a quiet gravity that pulled me where I didn’t know.
They smiled with eyes that whispered things too soft for sound to keep,
and suddenly the noise inside me stilled, like water falling asleep.

One night beneath the hush of hopes I barely dared to name,
I said, “I wish I had more to give,” but they just smiled all the same.
With laughter laced in meaning, they looked at me and said with ease,
“I want us more than comfort, more than coins, more than peonies.”

Now when they say 'darling', the sky itself feels lighter in my chest,
like every ache I carried learned how to be held and rest.
If love is made of moments strung like stars that gently see,
then every step I drift toward them becomes a quiet destiny.