There is a light on in your room, though I cannot see it.
There is a heart still beating, though I cannot hear it.
Tonight, I learned that love is sometimes not holding on, but quietly knocking, leaving a note beneath the door, and praying the person inside finds it when they are ready.
I wish I could carry the heaviness from your shoulders the way the moon carries the tide without asking.
I wish I could bargain with every dark thought that whispers your name and trade it for one more sunrise.
Instead, all I have are small things: a message that says, I’m thinking of you.
A hope that whispers, Please stay.
A prayer that quietly asks, May tomorrow be kinder than today.
People tell me I cannot control the storm, and they’re right.
But if you ever look through the rain, I hope you remember that somewhere, someone was standing with an umbrella, waiting.
Not because they could stop the weather, but because they couldn’t bear the thought of you standing in it alone.
If hope has a voice, I pray it finds yours.
If tomorrow feels impossible, borrow mine.
And if all you can do is survive today, then survive today.
The sunrise has never once asked whether we believed it was coming. It simply arrives.
