Etched.

I cried your name before I ever held you. Complained to the night, to walls that listened better than you did. I met your silence like a locked door, and still knocked with bare knuckles. You were chaos dressed as calm, a soft man hiding behind iron habits running every time feeling came close; yet somehow, you always came back. I tried to read you like scripture, between pauses half-smiles, unfinished sentences. I wanted the man behind the walls the one who trembled quietly, the kind man whose eyes sparkled when he called my name, the one who loved but didn’t know how to stay. There were days I loved you alone. Days where my hope outpaced your courage Days I stood in the ruins asking if love was meant to feel like waiting. But time? ah, time learned your language. Then came the day you stopped running. Another, you stayed And then you chose Now it is us Not chased Not guessed Not proven Just held Now my body knows your touch like prayer knows a name Now silence is not distance but intimacy resting Now love is holy and hungry soft and blazing all at once We lie still and feel everything We do nothing and mean it We choose each other in the ordinary If love stories are written in stone, let ours be etched on temple walls. where reverence meets desire, where devotion breathes. where a girl who once cried stands loved And a man who once hid finally stays.