Where My Voice Finds You

Where My Voice Finds You

I love you

not just in the easy daylight

where everything feels certain,

but in the quiet hours

when doubt sits heavy on the chest

and the world forgets how to be kind.

I love you in the unfinished moments,

in the sentences I never say out loud,

in the way your name lives

at the edge of every thought I try to escape.

Today, tomorrow, always—

not as a promise made lightly,

but as something carved deep,

like roots that refuse to loosen

even when the storm insists.

I have tried to measure it,

this feeling that stretches beyond reason,

but it spills over every edge,

turning time into something softer,

turning distance into something meaningless.

You are there

in the silence between heartbeats,

in the way I look for you

even when I close my eyes,

as if love itself

has learned your shape

and refuses to forget.

ALao if the world rewrites our story,

if days blur and names fade,

if everything we built

becomes nothing but echoes—

still, somehow,

my voice will rise through it all

and call you back to me.

Because this isn’t borrowed language,

isn’t stitched together for show—

it is mine,

imperfect, unpolished, real,

beating steady with every word I write.

So hear it clearly,

through every doubt, every distance, every fear:

I love you—

not just once,

not just now,

but in every moment that dares

to call itself forever.

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