To you, who holds him at night,
Where do I even begin without sounding pathetic? I guess I’d start by saying you’re lucky to have someone’s dreams wrapped around your arms.
If magic and wonder took a human form, it’d be him. And him, as a figment of my imagination, brings nostalgia.
I remember the way he’d look at me, it’s as if he’d want to protect me but at the same time, he’d let me make mistakes.
He’d look at me like I was the best thing that’s ever happened to him, that he didn’t want to waste time looking at other things because, “Hey, he got me.”
He listened to my rants as if they’re carefully crafted fairytales twined with a powerful spell. I got him, bounded. Sealed.
Or at least I thought I did.
You see, I was complacent and, perhaps, a bit selfish. I focused on me and forgot that I was with a man who has a good and fragile heart. One that rarely beats for someone, but when it did, it was for me.
And now to you. For you.
So to you, who hold him at night,
Hold him tight and whisper promises of eternity and sonnets of love.
Hold him like you would the stars, slowly then all at once.
Shower him with joy, the way he gives happiness without a price.
Give him peace, the same way he provides you the security of knowing that he’s there.
Hold him close, the way I used to. Maybe, hold him closer to your chest and make him rest in your heart.
Don’t ever let him go. Don’t ever let a loyal, kind, and smart man go.
He chose to love you.
You chose to love him.
I heard it’s the kind of love written by novelists and envied by poets. It’s passionate, raw, all-consuming. Yet, it’s also genuine, respectful, and free.
It’s the love you read in books and heard in songs.
It’s the love he offered me when he used to see the galaxy in my eyes.
But now, he’s caught in your universe.
So to you, who hold him at night, kiss him under the moonlight.
Know that your love is right.
Hold him close.
The way I never did, the way I wish I could.