I look out into the sea,
its dark, endless hush is cradled by moonlight
steady, vast, and aching with a stillness
that mirrors my own.

​

A song hums in my ears
about love how it waits, quiet but certain.
I wonder if mine will ever arrive
with the calm certainty of these waves.

 

Will it come like this ocean?
Not loud, not grand, but patient
something that doesn’t crash into me,
but surrounds me gently, without asking
to be chased or tamed.

​

My heart is tired of mirages,
of half-warmed hands and hollow gestures,
men who wear confidence like perfume
but offer nothing that lingers
beyond the surface.

​

I want a love that knows the tide
does not rush yet always returns.
I want a love that listens,
not just hears.

 

So I wait, in this moonlit ache,
not out of weakness but wisdom
because my soul knows the difference
between passing ships and the harbor
built just for me.