#midnitetears

To my future person…

I hope you love the rain

the way I do,

not just the soft kind,

but the wild, restless storms,

where thunder speaks in the dark

and lightning writes across the sky.

As we open the window

just enough to let the night in,

the cool air brushing against us

as we lie tangled together,

silent… but saying everything.

A single candle flickers,

painting warmth across your face,

while we drift closer

nose to nose,

forehead to forehead,

breathing the same quiet moment.

Your lips find mine,

soft, unhurried,

like time has nowhere else to be.

But here, with you and I.

And as the rain keeps falling,

steady, endless,

we fall too

into sleep,

into each other,

into something that feels like home.

How do you let go

just like that

seven years

reduced to a moment,

a blink,

a silence I still hear?

No “let’s try,”

no “we can fix this,”

just your mind made up

without me in it

a door closing

before I even knew

we were leaving.

You walked away,

and I stayed

in the space you left behind,

still holding conversations

that never happened,

still searching for answers

you never gave.

I tell myself to move on,

to keep walking,

to let time do

what it’s supposed to do

but I haven’t moved an inch.

Because the way you left me feeling…

it lingers

like a bruise no one can see,

like a question with no end,

like a love

that didn’t know

it was already over.

I can’t keep letting you consume me

you’re gone,

so I should let you go.

Yet here I am,

sifting through the echoes of you,

replaying memories

like they still belong to me.

I’ve had my faults,

and so have you

two imperfect souls

trying to hold something

that was never meant to stay.

Maybe everything happens for a reason,

maybe love sometimes visits

just to be felt,

not kept.

And still…

I’m grateful.

For the memories,

for the kind of love

I always dreamed of

even if it was only borrowed,

even if it was never mine to keep.

I carry it with me now

as something soft,

something fleeting,

something real.

So this is me,

closing the chapter

with trembling hands

Thank you.

And… goodbye.

Some nights

the silence feels louder than anything,

and the tears come before you even realize

you’re thinking of them again.

You replay the ending

like a wound you keep touching,

hoping somehow

it will hurt less this time.

But it doesn’t.

It hurts in the way losing air hurts,

like your chest forgets how to breathe

the moment you remember

they’re gone.

The person you pictured forever with

became a memory

in a single moment,

and ever since then

everything feels like it’s been falling.

You start believing

maybe that was your only chance at love,

that maybe love came once,

held your hand gently,

and then walked away

without looking back.

And now you sit with the ache of it,

wondering how to move on

when your heart still lives

in the last day you had together.

You revisit that goodbye

over and over,

as if changing the memory

could somehow change the ending.

But it stays the same.

They leave.

You break.

And the world keeps moving

like nothing happened.

That’s the cruel part.

Wanting love

while being terrified of it.

Wanting someone to hold you

while wanting everyone far away.

You crave connection

but fear abandonment.

You want to love again

but your hands still shake

from the last time

you gave someone everything

and they let it fall to the ground.

So now you stand

between loneliness and healing,

between missing them

and trying to survive them,

between wanting to be alone

and desperately wishing

someone would stay.

And maybe that’s what heartbreak really is

not just losing a person,

but losing the version of yourself

that believed love would stay.

I don’t dream of fancy cars,

or echoing rooms

inside a house too big to feel.

I’m not searching for luxury

I’m searching for a home.

Something small,

warm with quiet laughter,

soft with the feeling of us.

A place we build together,

piece by piece,

turning ordinary walls

into something that knows our names.

You don’t have to bring

expensive flowers home

no grand gestures,

no polished perfection.

Just a single bloom

picked from the side of the road,

held out with a shy smile

that would mean everything to me.

Because it’s never been about things.

It’s you.

Your love,

honest and unfiltered,

filling the spaces in me

I didn’t know were empty.

Your arms around me

that’s my safe place,

my quiet shelter

from everything the world can be.

And every time you leave,

I’ll whisper a silent prayer

not for riches,

not for more

just that you find your way

back through the door

safe…

to me.

I can’t wait

to build a life with you,

to walk through every season

the easy, the heavy, the real.

And when we finally meet,

when time stops pretending

and gives you to me

I hope you don’t mind

if I hold you

a little longer,

a little tighter…

It’s just

I’ve been waiting for you

for so long.

Dreaming of you is a strange kind of pain.

It breaks me apart,

yet somehow it comforts me too.

Because in those quiet hours,

when my eyes finally close,

you still exist in my world.

Not beside me,

not in the way I once wished,

but in the place where you never truly left

my dreams.

There, we are still us.

Our story never ended.

The chapters keep turning,

the conversations continue,

and for a little while

love is allowed to live again.

I don’t know if that’s healing me

or hurting me even more.

Maybe it’s both.

Maybe that’s what grief becomes

finding comfort

in the very thing that wounds you.

Either way,

this is the life I have now.

Learning how to keep moving forward

while carrying memories of your existence,

of your laughter,

of your love,

of everything we once were.

And though this endless loop

often leaves me aching,

it has taught me things too.

It forced me to look at myself,

to see what I couldn’t see before.

It opened my eyes

where they were once closed.

It showed me truths

I spent too long avoiding.

I don’t know if I’ll ever love again.

Maybe I will.

Maybe I won’t.

The future remains unwritten.

But what I know for certain

is that I loved you

with everything I had.

With every piece of my heart,

every hope,

every dream.

And whether that’s a blessing

or a burden now,

I cannot say.

But one thing remains true:

I may love again someday,

yet I will never love

the way I loved you.

Because some loves arrive only once,

leave their mark forever,

and change the shape of a heart

long after they’re gone.

I watch the world in passing

couples with fingers intertwined,

walking, laughing,

sharing kisses like promises

they believe will last.

I see warmth in their closeness,

soft moments stitched together

in quiet affection.

But then

I see the broken ones,

hearts barely healed,

already reaching for another

by the very next day.

I see couples who stay,

yet feel like strangers,

no love in their eyes,

no emotion in their touch

just presence without connection.

I see those who hold on

not out of love,

but fear

fear of empty spaces,

of being alone with themselves.

And I sit,

just observing,

never knowing their stories,

yet feeling everything

in the air between them

the energy,

the unspoken vibrations.

It weighs on me sometimes,

this quiet sadness

what love has become.

A picture-perfect goal,

a trending moment on screens,

a box to tick

to prove a life well-lived.

As if love were a milestone,

not a feeling.

I used to think

I was the one who was sad

standing alone,

watching from the outside.

But now I wonder…

if the loneliest place

is not being alone at all,

but being together

in a world without love.

You live in my thoughts

like a quiet echo each day,

a question my heart keeps asking

what will your voice sound like

when it finally says my name?

I wonder about your touch,

how your fingers will trace my skin,

how your hand will find mine

like it was always meant to fit there,

like it already knows the way.

I imagine your heartbeat

steady, close, real

a rhythm I’ll learn by heart

without ever trying.

But more than all of this,

more than voice, touch, or time,

I think of your eyes.

What will they look like?

Will they glimmer softly

or sparkle like something alive

or maybe both

in a way I’ve never seen before?

Because your eyes…

they will be my favorite place,

the part of you I’ll get lost in,

the part that finds me too.

They’ll hold my daydreams,

become my quiet comfort,

my warm, smiling reality.

And even now,

just the thought of you

puts a gentle smile on my face.

I can’t wait

to meet you one day,

someday soon,

my future,

my one and only.