Love didn't come to us like thunder. It came like the scent of rain before it even poured. We didn't realize when our silences turned into conversations, and our glances became gentle confessions.
Elira never said "I love you." She said things like "Don't vanish without saying goodbye," or "Stay a little longer, I think the moonlight listens better when you're around."
And somehow, that was enough. Because love doesn't always come wrapped in three words. Sometimes, it shows up in the way someone holds your hand mid thought... or falls asleep mid-sentence on call, trusting the silence between your breaths.
We started painting skies together not with brushes, but with moments. We imagined waking up under suns with two shadows curled into one. We fantasized love letters written on foggy windows, and kisses that lasted long enough to rewrite time. Elira said she wanted to dance barefoot under galaxies, with no music but my heartbeat. And I... I wanted to kiss her forehead after every laughter, as if I were thanking God for giving me the sound of her joy.
We talked of places we'd never been to tiny towns, quiet cabins, holding warm coffee under cold skies, her fingers inside mine like poetry inside a song. No touches yet. No lips met. But hearts? Oh, they had already made love in a thousand soft ways. She'd whisper "If I ever break, will you still find beauty in my cracks?"
And I'd reply "I'll call them constellations... and love you through every nightfall."
We were two souls tracing the edge of forever, dreaming a love that reality was still trying to catch up to.
Before lips ever touched, our hearts had already kissed, In dreams too wild, in moments not missed. No fire, no rush, just stars in disguise A love that bloomed beneath closed eyes.