Rooftop Confession

The skyline leans in like it’s listening,

city lights flicker, jealous of the fire in me.

Every brick, every star, every trembling street

is begging to carry the sound of his name.

I’m barefoot at the edge of forever,

wind in my hair, heart on parade.

If love is reckless, then let me be reckless—

let me carve his name into the echo of the night.

He doesn’t know the sky’s already ours,

painted in the blush of every stolen thought.

And I—

I was made to love him loudly,

like thunder breaking open the quiet,

like a rooftop holding a secret too big to keep.

So hear me, world—

this is my love song without a melody,

my confession stitched into the horizon:

I am head over heels,

and the fall feels like flying.