There is a thread between us,woven before the first kiss,before the first night we let the silencesay more than our lips ever could. I pull it, you pull it,but it never breaks.Even when the world tilts,even when the distance grows long,it hums beneath my skin—the music of belonging. You are my person.Not because I chose you,but because fate did,and I was wise enough to listen.

Come closer.I have been sick with the weight of waiting,with the cold that settled in my ribswhen your hands were not there to warm them. Lay your mouth against mine—not gently, not softly,but like fire meeting ice,like something desperate for survival. I have wandered through nightswhere the sheets were glaciers,where my breath curled like frost in the dark,where my body achedfor the heat of you pressed against it,for the fever of your skinto burn the sickness away. And now, you are here.Flesh and warmth,hunger and cure,the only medicine I have ever believed in. So let me drink you in.Let me …

I love our late nights. I'll love our early mornings even more. Hearing your voice is the sweetest thing a man could hear. Tasting your body will be the sweetest thing a man could taste.

This distance can try and get in our way all it wants to but every morning when I wake up I smile because of the previous days conversations. The previous nights naughty bits. 😏 The previous weeks ups and downs and how we managed to make it through once again showing that nothing can stop us. This week showed me once again that you can calm me down like nobody else. You are just the most amazing person. I can not wait to tell you this on a daily basis.

Where the Wolves Howl The wind has taken your name,buried it deep in the frost-laced pines,where the wolves move like shadows,where the night is thick with hunger. I do not speak it.Not here, where the air is too sharp,where the ice snaps like bone beneath my boots,where the river wears its silencelike a veil of glass. You are far—past the ridge where the storm coils,past the arctic current that drownseven the most faithful wings. Still, my hands remember.The heat of you beneath them,the fire you left beneath my skin,the way your breath once traced my ribsas if mapping a placeyou …

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 soonthis dust of waiting will settle into dawn. Do not weep, beloved, for love is a flamethat 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.