Shadow Love

It is not the kind of love

that stands in the daylight,

loud, unashamed,

clothed in roses and golden vows.

No—

this is a love that lingers

in the half-light,

a whisper tucked between

the silence of your footsteps

and the ache of my waiting.

I am the shadow trailing you,

never touching,

yet always near—

a quiet devotion that survives

without being seen.

Your laughter belongs elsewhere,

your eyes promise worlds

to someone who is not me,

and still,

I keep my heart pressed

against the dim outline of your presence.

Shadow love has no celebration,

no diamond rings,

no photographs hung on walls.

It only has

the pulse of longing,

the bruise of secrets,

the endless ache of what might never be.

Yet,

there is beauty here—

in this invisible tether,

in the courage of silence,

in the faith of a love

that breathes

without needing a name.

And maybe

that is what shadow love truly is—

not absence,

not despair,

but a quiet testament

that even in the dark,

love burns.