HIS QUIET EYES

His quiet eyes hold a kind of night, calm on the surface, restless underneath. Even when he smiles, I see the unsaid waiting behind his lashes. He carries his pain like winter carries snow— silently, without complaint. Standing close to him feels like standing near fire, warm, yet careful not to touch the flame too soon. His laughter feels like morning light to me, soft, steady, reassuring. His silence, like rain paused in the sky, falls slowly into my thoughts. I want to be his shelter, the place he doesn’t have to be strong. Because peace suits him beautifully, and loving him feels like learning how to stay.