The sky burns low
as night exhales its last.
Stars fade —
I keep them breathing
in the hollow of my palms,
their heat a pulse against my skin.
Your touch remains,
a whisper rooted deep,
pulling me through
the long ache of daylight.
When the clouds tear open,
you rise in me —
the quiet anthem of morning,
the sun naming itself
through your breath.
You are the pulse beneath my ribs,
the rhythm that steadies my blood.
Every heartbeat calls your name,
each one a vow I cannot break.
The world stills
inside your gaze,
oceans waiting for their tide.
Every word you speak
moves through me —
unwritten music remembering its sound.
Even when moonlight fades to gray,
your love holds,
a low fire against the dark.
It steadies me,
and I let it.
