MY VOICE

For the one I met in sleep, and miss while awake I don’t know your name, or where you came from just that your hands felt like rest and your breath, like home. You weren’t made of stardust, not carved from marble you had soft eyes, work-worn fingers, and a laugh that didn’t try too hard. You didn’t promise me forever, you just brought dinner home. You weren’t the tallest in the room, but I still stood behind you, proud. I remember how the nights felt quiet, and not lonely. You smelled of sweat and sun and safety, and your shoulder was mine when the day grew heavy. I told you, softly, that I was carrying something small and bright and you didn’t flinch. You placed your hand on me, and stayed. You stayed. And somehow that meant more than all the fireworks love ever promised me. If I ever see you again in a kitchen, on a porch, or just in that sleepy corner of my mind I’ll smile like I know you. Because I do. You were never just a dream. You were the feeling I’ve been waiting for my whole...

 It was the second night I told you not in a rush, not in a storm. The house was full, the lights were low, your skin was tired, your hands were warm. I didn’t say it with a tremble, no heartbeat wild, no grand reveal just reached for yours beneath the blanket, and placed it where new life would feel. The room was small, the world was distant, your breath slowed down, then stayed a while. You didn’t speak, but in the silence, your lips grew soft, your eyes a smile. Outside, the kitchen clinked with dishes, a cousin’s laugh, a rustling sheet but in our space, time paused to listen as two heartbeats began to meet. You pulled me close, I felt you trembling not with fear, but something wide. The kind of love that has no questions, just space enough to let you cry. And though the house held many voices, and family passed us like the wind, in that small bed, you held a future you hadn’t known you’d find within.

 by my sleeping heart I married a man I never knew, not carved from dreams, not sky-born true he smelled of earth and came in late, yet I was there… and called it fate. The night was blurred, the stars were kind, I searched for touch I couldn’t find. Still, something soft had come to stay a quiet home, a gentle day. He wasn’t rich, he wasn’t fire, but in his world, I could retire. No battles fought, no love to chase just mornings warm in someone’s place. I feared to ask, “Can I have more?” I feared the knocking at that door but he just stayed, and work was done, and in his arms, I found the sun. A life not built of perfect parts, but stitched from peace and softened hearts. No fairytale, no grand parade— just tea, and dusk, and debts half-paid. And in my dream, I wasn’t small, I wasn’t begging him to call. I wasn’t left to chase or wait— I simply walked beside my fate.