I loved you quietly. From behind laughter, from across the table, from two rows back in the cinema.
You never noticed the way my eyes held you longer than they should.
You never saw the poems I wrote in the margins of your presence.

I memorised the rhythm of your voice, the way others memorise prayers—repeated in silence until it becomes part of them.
I watched you in moments you didn’t know were being watched:
the way your hands curled when you listened,
the soft crease between your brows when you thought too hard,
the half-smile you wore when you found something secretly amusing.

You moved through the world unaware of how you lit mine.
But it’s okay. Some loves are meant to bloom in secret,
not to be picked,
not to be spoken—
just to be felt.

💌 CTAs

Some love to live quietly, and that’s enough.

I loved you quietly. From behind laughter, from across the table, from two rows back in the cinema.
You never noticed the way my eyes held you longer than they should.
You never saw the poems I wrote in the margins of your presence.

I memorised the rhythm of your voice, the way others memorise prayers—repeated in silence until it becomes part of them.
I watched you in moments you didn’t know were being watched:
the way your hands curled when you listened,
the soft crease between your brows when you thought too hard,
the half-smile you wore when you found something secretly amusing.

You moved through the world unaware of how you lit mine.
But it’s okay. Some loves are meant to bloom in secret,
not to be picked,
not to be spoken—
just to be felt.

💌 CTAs

Some love to live quietly, and that’s enough.