Love

I could gather you in my arms forever,

yet it would still feel unfinished,

as if love, no matter how tightly held,

was always spilling over the edges.

Your smile tilts the room,

reshaping the air I breathe.

Every glance you give me

undoes a little more of the distance

I thought I had to carry alone.

I’ve counted,

moments, touches,

the times I’ve traced your face in silence,

and still, the tally collapses

under the weight of feeling

that refuses to stay contained.

And then it changes.

Not from too little,

but from the realization

that what I hold is not meant to be counted at all.

Love like this doesn’t live in numbers

or even gestures,

but in the way you anchor me

and set me free in the same breath.

Every embrace is infinite,

not because of how long it lasts,

but because of how it tells me again and again,

you are my world,

and somehow,

my home inside it.