Love, you are the moon I follow through endless night,
a lantern beyond mountains I have yet to climb.
What are these miles but whispers in the wind?
What are these years but the slow turning of the sun?

You call to me from the other side of longing,
and though rivers rise, though the road bends and breaks,
I do not ask when—only how soon
this dust of waiting will settle into dawn.

Do not weep, beloved, for love is a flame
that burns away distance as fire drinks air.
I have already reached you—
for where your heart beats, so does mine.

I found you in the hush of a borrowed room,
where the moon hummed secrets to the blinds,
your voice was a river of velvet ruin,
and I drowned like a man who never minds.

I told you I’d build you a tower of words,
you laughed like a woman who knows the lie,
so I offered you nothing, and you took it whole,
left me aching beneath a paper sky.

Now your perfume lingers in a ghostless place,
where the sheets still whisper your name,
I light a candle, I sip the dark,
but love, the ember burns the same.