Whisperweave

I’m used to not having you in my space, but now that I’ve felt how heavenly it is, I’m afraid of losing sight of you.

There are things you cannot force; all you can do is beg with every breath, with every beat.

How long will we stand on opposite edges of this line? We’re already running parallel—so why aren’t we moving to meet in the middle?

Is it really that hard to realize that I am madly in love with you? Or have you known it all along—and that’s why you keep making me fall even harder, to the point where I can no longer forget you?