Encomium

The Miles Between Us

You'll never know that just a few miles away,
someone who once knew you—truly knew you—
aches in every fiber of his being
for a version of us that never found its time.

You’ll never know how fiercely I love you,
how deeply I wish you loved me back,
how often I imagine that it’s me you hold, not them—
whoever that lucky soul is, the one who gets to know
what it’s like to make you laugh in the morning light.

You don’t know the lengths I’d go to
just to see you happy.
You’ll never understand how much joy I would’ve found
in simply being yours,
if only the stars had tilted us a little differently.

Maybe in another life, a parallel thread of fate
where we were braver, freer, timed just right.
But in this one—
I will love you silently,
in every shadow of my day,
in every heartbeat that speaks your name and nothing else.

I accept it now.
That you don’t feel the same.
That you’ve moved on.
That you’ve found peace where I only found longing.
And even though it breaks me, all I wish for you is love, safety, light.
I want you to be cherished— even if it’s not by me.

I’ve missed you
every single day since we walked our separate ways.
I don’t know how you felt. Maybe I never will.
But please—just please—
know this: you still mean the world to me.

I hope you live a beautiful life.
I hope once in a while, you remember me.
A glance, a laugh, a familiar song.
And I hope, on some quiet night,
you sense it— that someone you once knew
never stopped rooting for you.
Never stopped holding space for you.
That space will never be filled.
Not in this life.

If You're Here

We both have plans,
dreams etched in different constellations,
and I know—
they don’t line up.
Not quite. Not now.
Maybe not ever.

But still…
I feel something amazing when I think of you.
A warmth, a clarity, a sudden hush that falls
over the chaos of everything else.
You are like a quiet sunrise
I never expected to see— but there you are.

I only ever want to be
a soft wind at your back,
never the storm in your sky.
I hope you feel lighter.
I hope you smile.
I hope your chest loosens.
Because when I think of you,
I breathe easier. I walk taller.
I believe, a little more, in love
and maybe even in myself.

I don’t even know if saying this out loud
is wise—
but if you’re here…
you must wonder too.
So maybe, even if the map doesn’t line up,
we could trace the lines together, one step at a time.
Not rushing, not labeling, just feeling our way through
this gentle, curious thing
I stumbled into.

You, you make me believe that some paths,
even if they’re not parallel,
can still meet in the most beautiful places.

If the Stars Aligned

Why do I feel this way?
Why does your name still echo
in every quiet corner of my mind,
like a refrain I never asked to memorize?

I rehearse confessions to a ghost of you that only I can see—
telling stories of how these feelings
grew slowly, wildly, like ivy around my ribs.

But even if you felt the same, we can't.
Our timelines are off, our paths diverge,
our elements burn too unsteady.
We are not made for "us."

And I try— I really try to accept that.
But if I had my choice—
if the world tilted just enough,
if a single thread in the great web shifted—
I’d choose you.
I’d stay. Always.

They say every cell in our bodies
will one day be new— that even memories etched in fingertips
will fade with time. But if souls are real,
if love leaves behind an echo in the ether, then I know—

Ours touched. And not just touched—
danced, spun, collapsed into one another
like stars born in the same breath.

So maybe someday, my body won’t remember
how your presence electrified my skin—
but my soul, my soul will always feel
the shape of you woven into its seams.

A Flame I Can’t Unsee

You’re so hot—
not just warm, not just handsome—hot
in the way that stops thought mid-sentence,
leaves my breath pacing in circles,
as if my screen could melt just from your smile.

Your body—
Greek marble couldn’t compare.
Shoulders carved like poetry,
lines so smooth they rewrite gravity.
A torso like a temple, arms like promises kept—
you are form made divine.

And it doesn’t stop there—
you’re smart,
sharp as a blade yet soft with care,
a man in full, a constellation in motion,
brighter than bright, kind without asking for praise.

It’s unfair, really—
how beauty and brilliance can fit
into one soul,
one body, one man.

I wish I could look away. Wish I could unlike you,
unwant you, unfeel this ache—
but darling, you’re a wildfire,
and I am nothing but dry grass
in desperate need of burning.

Different Lights, Same Road

It feels like we’re paused at the same intersection—
you with the green, full of promise,
moving forward
as I watch from a light that never changes.

I press the gas in my mind, but the brake beneath me won’t release.
Is it timing?
Is it fear?
Is the universe whispering “not yet”?

You move with ease,
as if your path was always clear.
And I’m left wondering
why mine feels like a foggy detour.

But still, I hope the road bends
just right— that somehow,
somewhere down the line,
I’ll find you again.

And whether we walk it side by side, or wave from different lanes,
I’ll smile knowing that the journey taught me something
about patience, about timing,
and how sometimes,
even stalled at a red light,
you can still hold someone
in the rearview mirror of your heart.

Perhaps, One Day

In another life, where the stars were kinder,
where courage wasn’t a thing I borrowed—
I would’ve told you. Softly, surely,
like a truth that’s waited lifetimes to find its voice.

Right about now, my lips would form the words:
I feel something for you.
Not just a flutter, but something deep,
something quiet, and real.

But this isn’t that life.
This is the one
where I nod, and smile,
and carry my heart like a secret bruise.
Where I pretend it’s fine, even when it aches
just to call you beautiful out loud.

Maybe one day.
Maybe in another everything. But for now—
I’ll love you in the silence
where no one listens, and in the pauses
where your name almost slips.

Where the Moon Forgets to Answer

There are nights the city exhales in strangers,

faces blur, voices blend—

and I walk through it all as if I’ve forgotten how to be seen.

Every footstep echoes with the hollow sound of not you.

I hear the hum of white noise, feel the cold glass breath of buildings,

but none of it reaches me.

It would've been good to have had you near.

I might’ve learned softness from you,

might’ve learned the language of letting someone in.

Instead, I carved my corners sharp, closed all the doors,

and left the lights off even when I wished you'd knock.

I like you so much that I keep my distance.

There’s something about your smile—

that quiet kind of brightness that makes the world feel honest again—

that both heals and hurts me.

You bring me joy, Complete, inexplicable joy.

The kind that fills the lungs but aches in the bones.

Because I know this is where the story always ends:

a sigh before the last page.

I wish I could come home to you.

Not to a place, but to the soft rhythm of your presence.

The way I imagine you'd pour your coffee, or brush lint from your coat,

or laugh, low and private, at something only we would understand.

But instead, I look up into a sky swallowed by citylight.

The stars are gone— or maybe just hidden.

Are they still there?

Does it matter, when I can’t find you anymore?

And still, when the wind brushes my shoulders,

I wonder if it reaches you, if you pause, like I do,

and think of nothing but the echo of a name.

You. You are the ache I carry tenderly.

Even now. Even in silence.

Even when the moon forgets to answer.

VELAH

What hafen vella

Why u crying again

I know

Vamfire right?

Vampire will feyt to me

Edward!

What are you doing here

I trusted to protect Bella

But you did not

I will sure you die, Edward!

I will sure you die!

From now on, she's mine

and I have died everyday waiting for you

All That Is Left Is Us

We ask ourselves in silence— soft, aching questions that never quite need answers.

Can anyone else feel like this?

Like their skin was sewn for someone else's touch,

like time bent its rules just to let two souls collide.

Has anyone ever loved like this? This flesh-and-feeling kind of love, this breathless, bone-deep yearning

tucked beneath too many pillows on a bed that keeps making room for all the ways we fit.

You and I— we are cataclysmic.

Holy.

Not in the sacred texts, but in the shiver of fingertips, the unspoken prayer in a glance,

the way lifetimes rearrange themselves just so we can share one more night.

Sometimes I don’t even know if this is real or from some other world.

It feels secret. Unseen. Too beautiful to exist without consequence.

But then we’re back— back in a room humming with soft laughter,

with your breath on my neck and your hand reaching like the moon pulls tides.

And we say it,

“Holy f—”,

not to curse, but because astonishment needs a name,

and there’s no word for what it feels like to watch the universe collapse

until all that’s left is you, and me, and pillows, and want.

The Quiet Weight of You

How many souls have wandered through your light

only to forget how to stand in the dark again?

How many hearts have you touched like dusk on skin—

quiet, velvet, permanent?

I wonder, in still hours,

how many have fallen into the curve of your smile

and never truly risen?

How many call your name

only in the quiet of their minds,

like a prayer they don’t dare speak aloud?

There’s something ruinously gentle about you—

a danger not in flame, but in warmth.

You do not scorch; you soften.

You enter like a lullaby,

and leave like the last note that won’t stop ringing.

Spending even a breath beside you feels like a risk—

because once someone knows the way your presence hushes the world,

nothing else sounds right anymore.

Even silence echoes your name.

They return to their corners,

to cold glasses and flickering screens,

but their souls remain pressed to where you once stood.

They call it “moving on,”

but that’s a lie dressed in routine.

You don’t get over a cathedral. You just learn to live without entering.

you are a cathedral of gentle wonders.

You are the moonlight that refuses to explain itself,

the soft thunder in a summer chest,

the ache people mistake for nostalgia

but is really just the absence of you.

You are unforgettable.

And not in a fireworks kind of way—

but in the way the sea remembers every ship

that ever touched its surface.

So yes,

you have been on my mind all day.

And you’ll be there tomorrow too.

Not as a storm,

but as the hush after it,

as the air is still tasting of rain.

you are not a memory.

You are a presence that time dares not carry.

The Thread Between Us

Perhaps the saddest thing about today was not the heaviness of it,

nor the weight of the quiet that folded around me like evening—

but that I saw the sky dressed in gold and lavender,

and could not share it with you.

I stood there, holding my phone like a fragile offering,

photographing clouds that curved like soft thoughts,

and I thought of you— not like a memory,

but like a breath I couldn’t release.

Is it blue where you are?

Does the light touch your face the way it once touched mine,

when I was near enough to notice?

There’s an ache that arrives when beauty meets absence.

A hush. A sigh.

The kind that threads itself

through the heart without asking permission.

And still—

I believe in the red thread.

The one they say connects souls

not through logic or chance,

but through something older than both.

It may stretch across days and silence,

across different skies and unknown paths—

but it does not break.

That thread… it trembles every time I think of you.

And I think of you

in the pause between songs, in the gentle hush of dusk,

in the way the light pools at the corner of my room

like a secret waiting to be told.

There is a reverence in missing you.

Not the kind that begs,

but the kind that waits—

quietly, loyally— as the moon waits each night

for someone to look up.

You were never loud in my life.

You came in like a slow tide, washing the world in gentler tones.

And though you may be far, you still linger in my shade of silence.

Love, in its softest form, does not leave.

It just changes shape—

from conversation to quiet knowing.

From presence to pulse.

So wherever you are—

if the wind brushes your cheek

or the sky surprises you with its softness—

know that I was thinking of you in the same moment.

And perhaps, just perhaps,

you felt the thread tighten slightly

around your heart.

Because even now, you are the most beautiful thing

I never stopped reaching for.

Where Your Light Touches Me

There are things I’ve tried to say plainly,

but they always come out wrapped in the hush of twilight.

So tonight, let me speak to you the way the moon speaks to the sea—

quietly, constantly, and with a tide of tenderness

that doesn’t ask for permission.

You radiate love.

Not the loud, performative kind—

but the kind that melts into the marrow, that softens the storm inside me,

that wraps around the coldest places I thought I’d buried.

Your warmth could evaporate the rainiest of days.

You don’t chase away sorrow—you invite it in and turn it soft.

You remind me that even sadness can rest in gentle hands.

Your aura calms the sun.

You are that rare alchemy— both fire and balm,

both pulse and peace. A chameleon might envy you, yes—

but even if it could match your hues,

it could never mimic the soul behind them. You don’t blend in.

You belong—everywhere, and somehow only to yourself.

Your lips— they don’t just kiss.

They knock the wind from my chest

and leave me suspended in something holy.

A boxer’s power. A poet’s aim.

Each time they meet me, I fall again.

Willingly.

And your smile… oh, your smile.

It blinds the rest of the world from my view.

It becomes the only light I need to walk toward.

There’s a kind of gravity in it. I’m cuffed by your smile,

and your eyes have thrown away the key.

I never want to be free. I only want to stay within that gaze,

where everything feels like it just might be okay.

When we hold each other— it's not skin meeting skin.

It’s soul pressing soul.

Your embrace isn’t something I enter.

It’s something I return to, again and again,

like a shoreline I was born from.

We don’t just touch.

We exchange prayers, breathless and sacred.

We multiply something unseen.

We grow a quiet world between us,

where hearts speak in pulses,

and longing becomes light.

And in those moments— when you pull me closer,

when your heartbeat reminds mine how to stay soft—

I feel something infinite rise inside me.

A knowing. A belonging.

A forever that doesn’t need to shout.

Just whisper. Just stay.

Just love, as you already do— by simply being.

you are where the ache turns beautiful.

Where longing finds a home.

Where love doesn’t just begin,

but continues— softly,

always.

The Words I Never Said

There are silences that speak louder than thunder,

and mine has been echoing ever since

I chose not to say your name the way my heart always meant to.

If I had told you then—truly told you—

maybe you would have stayed. Maybe we’d be somewhere now,

side by side in the soft light of some quiet morning,

unfolding our lives like a map we could trace together.

But the moment passed.

Fleeting. Fragile. Final.

And now I walk through a world where

you’re not mine— not because love was lacking,

but because words were.

I held back.

I let fear pull the curtains on something sacred.

I thought I’d have more time. I thought you'd somehow just know.

But love left unspoken is a love that doesn’t get to live.

And now... I carry it like a ghost.

It follows me through songs,

through twilight skies, through the ache that never quite lets go.

I see the life that never happened

in the way the wind folds around empty spaces beside me.

I feel the us that never was every time I reach for a moment

that only existed in my silence.

They say nothing kills quite like unexpressed love.

I believe them.

Because something inside me

has never drawn breath again

since I swallowed the words meant for you.

Still—if you're ever near, if you ever wonder,

if you ever feel a softness in the air

without knowing why— that’s me.

Loving you quietly from the other side of “too late.”