Still, I Search

There are moments with you

that don’t feel like part of this world,

like they were carved from a softer universe

where time doesn’t race,

where nothing is asked of us

but to simply be.

And in those moments,

when the world grows quiet

and your presence becomes everything

I ever needed to remember about being alive,

I begin searching again.

Not for you -

you’ve already been found.

You, who feel like home I never knew I was missing.

You, who speak in laughter and breath,

in glances that hold stories

I could spend a lifetime learning.

No, I search for something else now.

For the words,

for the feelings,

for the courage

to tell you what this all means to me.

Because when I am with you,

the weight I carry -

the noise, the worry, the doubt -

it slips away.

And what remains is something so still,

so vast and full of light,

that I am convinced the sky itself

takes its color from your presence.

How can I say it?

How can I explain

that these days, these hours,

these fleeting stretches of shared time

are everything?

That nothing in this life -

no book I’ve read,

no film I’ve wept through,

no cathedral I’ve stood beneath,

no loss I’ve endured,

no joy I’ve celebrated -

can come close to this?

To you.

To the hush of your breath in the morning light.

To the curve of your shoulder against mine.

To the way the world seems to pause

when you look at me with eyes that don’t even know

how much they’ve already given.

You make the ordinary feel divine.

A quiet tea,

a shared silence,

a walk nowhere in particular -

these become altars,

sacred spaces

where peace settles like dust in sunlight.

And I sit there,

heart cracked wide open,

trying -

always trying -

to find the language

for something this enormous.

But the truth is,

there are no words large enough

to hold what I feel for you.

There is only presence.

Only this heartbeat.

Only this ache of gratitude

that someone like you exists

and that, somehow,

I get to know you.

And even though

you’ve already been found -

by me,

by the stars,

by the gravity that pulls all good things together -

I will keep searching.

Because this love…

this love asks me to.

Not out of lack,

but out of reverence.

Because when I see you -

truly see you -

I want to understand every piece.

Not to fix, not to shape,

but to honor.

To hold you

the way sunlight holds the ocean -

not to change it,

but to reflect its beauty

back to itself.

And still -

I know.

I know there are days

you don’t see what I see.

You walk with a weight

you don’t always name.

You carry shadows

that whisper old stories

in a voice you’ve heard for far too long.

And oh, how I wish

you could see yourself

through these eyes.

The way your kindness reaches past silence.

The way your laugh

unlocks something ancient and holy in me.

The way your mere presence

makes the world feel less cruel,

more tender,

more bearable.

You are not just beautiful.

You are truth.

You are the unwritten page

I will spend forever trying to fill

with metaphors,

and music,

and love letters to a soul

that humbles me just by existing.

So I keep searching.

For better ways to tell you:

You are already everything.

Not someday.

Not when you heal more,

or grow more,

or become some version of yourself

you think the world is asking for.

Now.

Exactly as you are.

Flawed, yes.

Human, yes.

But radiant beyond reason.

Worthy beyond question.

And if I have one hope -

one wild, trembling wish -

it’s that one day,

you’ll believe that.

Not because I said it,

but because something inside you

finally softens enough

to let that truth sink in.

Until then,

I will be here.

Next to you.

Searching still -

not for proof,

but for poetry.

For new ways to say:

I see you.

I care about you.

I always will.

And even when my voice fails me,

even when words fall short -

know this:

In the quietest places inside me,

in the parts I’ve never shared with anyone,

you are the prayer

that answers itself

just by being near:)