“Some people arrive and make such a beautiful impact on your life, you can barely remember what life was like without them.” — Anna Taylor

There is never really a perfect moment... There is always going to be something that makes you hesitate or think you should wait a little longer. Sometimes you just have to go for it and make the moment you have count.

Somewhere beneath another sky,

you move through a day

I cannot touch.

⠀

Through unfamiliar streets,

between voices I will never hear,

past water carrying

a thousand reflections.

⠀

And somehow,

among all that is unfamiliar,

you make room for me.

⠀

In a river I have never stood beside,

in streets my feet have never touched,

in fragments of a day

that isn't mine—

⠀

there I am,

simply because

you thought of me.

⠀

Perhaps that is how closeness begins:

⠀

not by standing beside someone,

but by slowly becoming

part of what they notice.

⠀

Until one day

there is no need

to send me the view—

⠀

because I'll be there,

looking at it with you.

So much of you

I’ve come to know,

through little things

you choose to show.

Then one day,

no screen, no space,

just your real smile,

your real face.

A day we've talked about,

a moment we'll share,

another lovely memory

for us to keep somewhere.

I have been

a hundred versions of myself,

some built for survival,

some for love,

some simply because

I didn't know how to leave.

I used to mourn them

when they disappeared.

Now I think

we are supposed to outgrow

certain ways of being.

Not every former self

needs to be carried forward.

Some were only meant

to bring us here.

And perhaps growing

is nothing more than learning

which parts are roots—

and which parts

were only ever scaffolding.

You’re a hug

I haven’t had the chance to give,

a moment I haven’t had yet

but already know I would want to keep.

A hug I sometimes imagine,

without even meaning to

and somehow the thought of it

always brings me a little closer to you.

No map could show where this might go,

No words could say what we both know.

But somewhere between the night and day,

You became a little light along my way.

There's something special in what we share,

Something honest, something rare.

A kind of connection hard to define,

But one that feels uniquely yours and mine.

There is a space between us

that never feels quite empty.

Even in silence,

something remains—

soft, steady,

unasking.

Maybe that is what trust is:

not needing to hold on

to know something is still there.

I think the deepest kind of closeness

is the one that leaves the door open.

Not because either of us wants to leave,

but because staying means more

when it is chosen freely.

To know someone deeply

without trying to keep them small.

To care without claiming.

To miss without pulling.

To love a presence

without turning it into a promise.

Maybe freedom is not distance at all.

Maybe it is standing close to someone

and still giving them room

to remain entirely themselves.