Echoes of Us: A Love Etched in the Quiet Between Heartbeats:

We are not fireworks—no blaze to carve the sky,

but roots that twist in secret, drinking time.

Your voice, a tide that hums beneath my ribs,

echoing in the canyon where my pulse begins.

Love is the ghost of a laugh caught in rain,

the way dusk clings to daylight, soft and plain—

a thumbprint on a cup, a chair left askew,

proof that the mundane is where forever grew.

I’ve memorized the braille of your quiet sighs,

the grammar of your silence, its unscripted replies.

We orbit like old stars, slow-burning and sure,

mapping constellations in wounds we’ve learned to cure.

So let the world chase sparks that rise and decay—

we’ll be the dust that outlives the comet’s fray.

Here, in the breath between hello and stay,

love writes its epics… one inch at a day.