I think of you constantly.
Not lightly
but with a quiet storm that settles beneath my ribs,
a restless tide that refuses to rest.
It rises in the pauses of my day
and folds the world into silence
until only your name remains.

You are with him tonight,
yet I can feel how your heart is leaning away,
as if the life beside you has begun to blur
like a shoreline losing shape
in a falling tide.
You do not need to say anything.
Your voice carries the weight
of almost choosing.

My chest knows before my words do.
It tightens when your thoughts drift,
it lifts when your truth tries to surface,
it aches because I hold a hope
I am trying to treat gently.

And here I am,
waiting at the quiet edge of us.
Not asking.
Not rushing.
Just keeping a small light steady
in case you turn toward it.

I do not want to pull you away
from anything you are not yet ready to release.
I want only to be the place
your thoughts settle
when the noise dissolves
and your courage has room to breathe.

You are standing in the doorway
between what has ended in your heart
and what has not yet begun in mine.
One hand still touches the old life,
the other reaches
slowly and carefully
toward something softer
and truer.

Toward me.

So I hold this unrest,
not as a burden
but as a reminder
that what moves in me
is alive and real.

If you choose this path,
we can move slowly.
No rush, no pressure, no firestorm.
Just two people meeting
where the shadows thin
and a new light
learns to grow.