I spend my free nights curled up on the couch with a book now-
The draft outside slipping in through the window and leaving the pages restless,
a sudden spring disruption.
You entered just as quietly,
rewriting the entire book I’ve read on love.
It was an empty well back then,
Love.
It was a heavy chest,
sobs lost to the dark side of a wall-
Unheard by the man drunk and snoring on the other side of it.
I carried eyes so hollow they still haunt my sleeping hours years later.
You lingered, quiet and supportive,
breathing life back into my skin before I knew it was happening.
Through late-night whispers,
you left small things behind for me to nurture-
and slowly, I watched them grow.
I spend my free nights curled up on the couch with a book now-
Getting lost in worlds of love I never thought were real until I met you.
