It starts soft, like a friend who knows your name,
A voice in the dark that calls out to ease the pain.
You know the road, you’ve walked it before,
Each step a lie, but you still ask for more.
The needle’s cold, but the warmth is near,
It pulls you in, drowns out the fear.
For a moment, you float—weightless, alive—
But the world comes crashing when you don’t survive.
It’s the quiet whisper, it’s always there,
Telling you that this time, it’s just a prayer.
One more hit, just one more round,
Then maybe you’ll finally feel safe and sound
About the Creator
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My Sweet-Thang: Loving You in the Quiet Spaces
Love is often described through grand gestures—flowers, promises, and dramatic declarations. But real love, the kind that settles deep into the bones, rarely announces itself loudly. It arrives softly. It stays quietly. And somehow, it changes everything. That is what you are to me, my sweet-thang. You are not the noise in my life. You are the calm that follows it. In a world that constantly demands attention, speed, and perfection, you exist like a pause—a breath I didn’t know I was holding until you showed me how to release it. Loving you does not feel rushed or forced. It feels natural, like something my heart always knew how to do, even before it knew you. What makes you special isn’t something that can be easily explained. It’s in the way you listen—not just to my words, but to the silences between them. It’s in how you notice the small shifts in my mood before I even understand them myself. It’s in the comfort you offer without being asked, and the patience you show without keeping score. You love me in ways that don’t need proof. With you, I’ve learned that love doesn’t have to be loud to be powerful. It can exist in shared glances, late-night conversations, and the simple reassurance of knowing someone is there. Even when nothing extraordinary is happening, being with you feels enough. That’s a rare thing. There are days when the world feels heavy—when responsibilities pile up, when doubts creep in, when exhaustion settles deeper than sleep can fix. On those days, you don’t try to fix me. You don’t rush me toward positivity or pretend everything is fine. You sit with me in the discomfort, and somehow, that makes it lighter. That’s love in its truest form. I don’t love you because you complete me. I love you because you understand me. You allow me to be myself—unpolished, uncertain, and still worthy of care. With you, I don’t feel the need to perform or pretend. I can simply exist, and that existence is met with warmth instead of judgment. You’ve shown me that love is not about possession, but presence. Being with you has changed the way I see affection. It’s no longer about constant excitement or dramatic highs. It’s about stability. About choosing each other, again and again, even on ordinary days. Especially on ordinary days. Because ordinary days are where life truly happens. My sweet-thang, you are the kind of love that doesn’t fade when the excitement settles. You are the kind that deepens. The kind that grows roots. The kind that feels safe enough to last. I don’t know what the future holds. I don’t pretend love guarantees certainty or perfection. But I do know this: loving you feels honest. It feels real. And in a world full of temporary things, that reality is rare and precious. You are not just someone I love. You are someone I choose. Every day. In quiet ways. With a steady heart. And that, my sweet-thang, is everything.
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