There is a place inside you No map has ever traced, a quiet room behind the ribs where light forgets to stay. No one sees it when you smile, No one hears it when you speak. It moves beneath your laughter like a river running deep. It is yours alone to carry, not carved for other hands, a language made of silence Only your soul understands. Some mornings it is heavier, a stone you cannot name, And still you rise and wear your life as if it were the same. But pain, it does not leave you when ignored or pushed away, it waits within the folds of time, it learns you day by day. It is not your enemy, though it cuts without a sound; it is the truth you buried but still lives underground. And yes, there are nights it breaks you, when endurance feels too wide, when even breath feels borrowed And there is nowhere left to hide. Yet somehow you continue, not because you do not fall, but because within the breaking You still answer life’s call. You learn to walk beside it, not beneath it, not above...
There is a place within me where thought no longer speaks, where language fades into something softer, something deeper, a quiet unfolding that no voice can carry. It is there that you live. Not in the simple sound of your name, not in the fragile structure of sentences, but in the spaces between them, in the pauses where my breath lingers as if it is even afraid to disturb what you have become inside me. My thoughts of you do not arrive gently. They pour, slow at first, like a distant tide, then all at once, filling every corner of my being until there is no part of me untouched. I try to gather them, to shape them into something I can offer you, something worthy, something whole, but they slip through language like light through open hands. Because what I feel for you was never meant to be spoken. It belongs somewhere deeper, in that sacred space beneath my ribs where my heart does not just beat, it remembers, it reaches, It aches for something it has already found. You are there now...