Love isn't something you lay with like a blanket.
It's not something you wrap around yourself to stay warm.
It's a hand reaching in the night, a heart beating against your cheek,
a song you seek that hums across bodies, lulling you to sleep with presence.
Skin to skin, pulse to pulse, it reminds you that you exist.
And in the morning, you don't carry it forward like an old trinket. It knocks on your window like fresh daylight and invites you to carry yourself.
Before your eyes can find the eyes that look for you, you have to find yourself in the dark. Love is that threshold where you meet yourself and it's the home that waits for you out there. The deep stretching yawn that marks how far life goes in your own belly. And the exhale that lets it all go, reaching for another.
Then you say good morning. Then you share a smile. Then your hands can truly hold.
Love calls for you like a reflection, a dance of light - the response is yours to arrive into, again and again.
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