We speak in riddles, you and I,
hiding our hearts behind laughter,
wearing careful smiles like armor,
while the truth aches quietly underneath.
They see you look good,
You never wear your beauty like a shield,
you simply exist, almost oblivious,
a soft soul adrift in a world of polished lies.
I answered with storms,
with the weight of my intensity,
tasting the edges of your Hidden walls,
not knowing how deep your oceans ran.
You, surprised, but not resentful,
me, reckless, but not cruel
two strangers, yet somehow
woven by the same trembling hands of fate.
We are cities apart,
chasing different dreams,
speaking different songs,
yet somehow orbiting the same secret longing.
And still
still we leave too much unsaid,
letting our silences bloom like wildflowers
in the fields between us.
I am weary,
The world will call me foolish.
They will measure our hearts in logic,
not knowing how eternity fits inside a stolen glance
And yet, here I am,
holding my breath on the tightrope between fear and hope,
whispering into the dusk:
Is this a story worth fighting for?
