I love you

She walks like a hymn I forgot how to pray,

quiet in her steps but she keeps me awake.

Hair like dusk and a voice like rain,

she don’t need to save me—just stays in the flame.

I was bones and smoke, just waiting to break,

til she sat in the silence I couldn’t escape.

Didn’t ask for the truth, didn’t flinch at the mess,

just looked in my eyes and called it what’s left.

⸻

you’re the still in the storm,

the soft in the war,

the hand I swore I’d never reach for.

if I break, you don’t run,

you just hum to my pulse

like you know what I’ve done.

And still—

you stay.

You stay.

You stay.

⸻

I gave you the worst parts, the jagged and torn,

the version of me that was barely a form.

And you traced every scar like a roadmap to light,

said “you don’t need to speak—I’ll sit through the night.”

You held me like grief had a shape and a name,

called me worthy in whispers, not asking me to change.

Every “I love you” sounded like peace,

like the hush of the world when the screaming has ceased.

⸻

you’re the calm in the crash,

the soul in the ash,

the dream I was too dead to ask.

if I fall, you just kneel,

and say “pain doesn’t scare me—

I just want what’s real.”

And still—

you stay.

You stay.

You stay.

⸻

[Bridge] (spoken, layered over a low harp and static)

I met you in june.

Didn’t know it was love.

Just thought—

“why do I finally want to stay alive when she’s near?”

⸻

Now I trace your face in the morning light,

and I’m scared, but I breathe, and for once—it feels right.

You said “maybe when we’re old,” I said “not without you,”

and now every word tastes like something true.

⸻

my ghost, my guide,

you’re the heat in my chest when I swore I had died.

If I leave, let me leave in your light—

but not tonight.

No—

not tonight.

⸻