Lovleytdaytodie

Softly

is knowing exactly where i would rather be

and not being there

there are days when the distance feels small

when your voice reaches me

and i can almost pretend

that you are only in the next room

but there are other days

when the space between us stretches so wide

it feels impossible

and i ache with it

i ache because i love you

more than i know how to explain

more than words were ever built to carry

more than the poems i write

and delete

and write again

trying to fit something endless

inside a handful of lines

sometimes i wish i could tell you

how often you cross my mind

how every small thing becomes a reminder

a song

a flower growing through a crack in the pavement

a sunset that stays a little too long

all of it somehow finds its way back to you

i hate that i cannot sit beside you

when your day has been terrible

i hate that i cannot reach for your hand

without finding empty air

i hate that every hug

every laugh

every moment together

must travel through wires and signals

before it reaches me

because if i had the choice

i would choose you

every time

every lifetime

every version of this world

i would choose your voice in the morning

your laughter at midnight

the way you tell stories

the way you exist so effortlessly

inside my thoughts

until i cannot remember what life felt like

before you became part of it

and maybe that is what hurts the most

not the miles

not the waiting

not the screens

but the fact that i love you so much

that every day without you feels incomplete

like a song ending too soon

like a letter missing its final page

like home seen from far away

but never quite reached

still

if loving you means carrying this ache

i will carry it

because even the pain of missing you

is proof that i have something worth missing

and if i must love you from afar

then i will

with all that i am

with every quiet thought

with every hopeful tomorrow

with every beat of my heart

until the distance finally runs out

and i no longer have to imagine

what it feels like

to be beside the person

"I hope you never change the way you compliment"

And I thought about it for a long time.

How could I explain that my words were never meant for things that stay the same?

Your hair may one day fall past your shoulders like a river finding its course, or be cut short as autumn grass after the harvest. It may turn gold, black, crimson, silver, or carry the pale frost of passing years.

And still I would call it beautiful.

Not because it remained unchanged, but because it belonged to you.

The years will move as they always do. They will soften sharp edges, draw delicate lines around laughter, and leave their quiet signatures where time chooses to write.

And still I would find new praises to offer.

For I do not love a photograph. I do not admire a statue. I have never been enchanted by stillness.

I admire the way a tree grows how its branches stretch toward different skies each season, how its leaves arrive green and leave gold, yet remain unmistakably the same tree.

You are like that.

If your hair changes, I will compare it to wildfire, to moonlight, to the first snowfall.

If your face changes, I will speak of the kindness time has painted there.

If your voice grows softer, I will say it sounds like evening settling over a quiet field.

And when we are old, when the years have transformed us both into strangers to our younger selves, I will still look at you with the same wonder.

I will still search for words.

I will still tell you that your smile is a sunrise returning after a long winter, that your laugh is a bell ringing across still water, that your presence turns ordinary days into something worth remembering.

Because my compliments were never promises to love one version of you.

They were promises to notice every version.

Every season. Every change. Every new shape your life takes.

And no matter how many years pass, I think I will always find another way to say:

Look at you.

I could have made sure you knew you were loved and cared for .

In another life I didnt grow up angry.

I didnt kick and scream when you became friends with me.

I didnt hurt you out of fear.

In another life you didnt grow up sad.

You didnt hurt on the inside.