Jun 10
As the sun surrenders to the ocean’s edge, I gather the only dream I have ever called my own.
You are the fleeting gold of twilight that still commands my gaze, long after the light is gone.
You are the cherry blossom—brief in season, eternal in my memory—unfolding beauty in the space of a breath.
You are the comet that carves fire across the night, leaving the sky brighter for having known you.
And yet, here you stand: brighter than all of them, and mine to keep.
In all my years, I never believed an eloquent daydream could step into flesh and voice—could take my hand and fill a world that tried to drown me in darkness.
But you did.
You became the light that stays.
