The Harbor I Owe You

I love you forever.

I love you forever — a whisper through the static,
neon bleeding down the avenue where memories slow-dance.
You said the future was a rumor we could chase together,
so I learn the shape of moonlight by the curve of your hands.

You will. You will — a promise like a coin flipping,
landed warm in the palm of every sleepless night.
We traded truth for tiny daring, for cigarette confessions,
for a map with no address, only the direction “toward you.”

Yes. That’s the problem. Yes — and also the fix:
we love in loud splinters, in the hush between two beats.
I love you — simple as a knock on a tired door,
complicated as the reasons we keep coming back.

I love you forever — say it once so it lasts,
say it soft so it anchors the way ships anchor storms.
We keep the wound and the bandage both, because both hold meaning.
I will learn to be the harbor if you promise to steer.

I love you forever — even when the lights go thin,
even when morning chews the edges clean and leaves us bare.
Hold my name like a secret under your tongue:
we’ll make it holy by never saying it to anyone else.

I love you forever — the city echoes it, the stars nod.
You will, you said — and for now, that’s enough.

by Onnaya