In a World Not Yet Found, But Deeply Imagined

It's 3:15 AM. The world is asleep, but my mind is wide awake, wandering through dreams of a love I haven't found yet.

I imagine date nights not bound by time, only by feeling. A small room, soft music playing, where we slow dance in the hush of midnight. Her head on my shoulder, my arms around her waist, like we're the only two people the universe remembered.

There are quiet evenings when she perches on the kitchen counter, feet swinging, hair tied up in the messiest bun. I cook for her, not to impress, but to care. She watches, teases, taste-tests. It's messy, warm, real.

We lie side by side, wrapped in the same blanket, and I read aloud from a book that makes us feel. Sometimes it's poetry, sometimes it's a story we finish in one sitting, too captivated to stop. Sometimes, we don't even get to the end, our laughter, our whispers, our quiet moments become the real story.

We write letters to each other even when we're in the same home, notes slipped into pockets, scribbled confessions taped to mirrors, little folded dreams tucked inside her favorite book. Words that say "I see you," "I miss you," "I love you," even when we're only a breath apart.

Weekend hikes and early morning coffee dates. Lazy Sundays where we never leave bed, except to fetch pancakes or kiss under the sun pouring through the windows. Movie marathons with popcorn in bowls too big and debates over which film is our favorite.

We raise a pet together, maybe a dog with too much energy or a sleepy cat who owns the couch. Either way, it becomes part of our story, part of the little world we build one soft moment at a time.

A world made of our own language, silly nicknames, inside jokes, and that quiet look we share when words would only get in the way.I haven't found her yet. But sometimes, in the stillness of night, I swear I can feel her out there, dreaming of a life that sounds a lot like this.