a love like us

originally written september 2nd, 2024 

I find myself thinking of you more often than not, caught between the spaces of the past and the present, as if we exist somewhere in between. I wonder, sometimes, if this love is not just something between us, but something that has always been there, waiting—waiting for us to meet, to recognize each other in the blur of time. It feels like we were meant to cross paths in some quiet way, as though the earth knew us before we knew each other.

There are moments when I close my eyes, and I can hear the sound of your voice in the air. It’s like a song I never knew I was missing, but when it enters my heart, I know it’s the one I’ve always been searching for. It’s soft, but it carries weight—like the wind that bends the trees without breaking them. I feel it everywhere, in the quietest places and in the loudest ones, like you’ve planted yourself so deep inside of me that I can’t untangle you. And, maybe, I don’t want to.

Do you know how often you visit me in my thoughts? Not in some dreamlike, whimsical way—but in the moments when I’m standing still, waiting for the world to catch up to me. There, in those pockets of time, I feel you with me. I think about the sound of your laugh, how it holds warmth in the simplest things. You have a way of making the everyday feel holy, of turning a fleeting glance or a small touch into something that stays with me long after we’re apart.

Sometimes, I wish I could bottle this feeling of love up, the way it wraps itself around me when you’re near. But I’ve learned that love, like everything else, is not meant to be contained. It’s like the wildflowers we saw that one spring afternoon, scattered across the field—delicate, untamed, and utterly beautiful in their imperfection. I want to hold onto those moments with you, not out of fear of losing them, but because they are precious in their fleeting nature. I know that everything changes, and maybe that’s why these moments feel so alive—because we can’t hold on to them forever, but we can cherish them while they’re here.

You are the person I reach for when I don’t have the words, the one who makes the silence between us feel full. And when the silence grows too heavy, you bring the lightness I never knew I needed. The way you listen, the way you see me—it’s not something I’ve ever found in another. You make me feel both seen and held, like there’s no distance too great between us, even when we’re miles apart. I know that love is not always a perfect thing—it comes with its own complications, its own messiness—but somehow, I think that’s where it’s most beautiful. It’s in the tension, in the waiting, in the way we try again and again, without ever giving up on each other.

I can’t help but think that we are like the seasons—always changing, always growing, sometimes aching, sometimes thriving—but always coming back to one another. There are days when the world feels too loud, too harsh, and I long for the quiet of your presence. But even then, I carry you with me. I carry the warmth of your heart, the gentleness of your touch, and the steady rhythm of your love.

I think of us as two souls wandering through this world, finding moments of grace, however fleeting, in each other’s company. You are the map I didn’t know I needed, and the place I didn’t know I was looking for. And in you, I’ve found a home, not built of walls or structures, but built of moments—of all the tiny, tender exchanges that mean everything in the end.

I love you, deeply, in a way that sometimes feels too big for me to hold. But somehow, I know that it’s not something to be held at all. It’s something to be lived, breathed, and shared, moment by moment, with you.