LOVE and LOST

Obsession

It is not simply love

It is an obsession

it is the way my mind

returns to you

like waves to shore

You linger in every quiet pause,

in every song that aches sweetly,

in the spaces between thoughts

where somehow

your name has made a home.

I notice everything

the curve of your smile

when joy catches you off guard,

the sound of your laugh

that stays in the air

long after silence returns,

the little pieces of you

my heart keeps collecting

like treasured things.

You have become

my favorite thought, my soft distraction,

the spark that turns ordinary hours

into something bright,

something alive.

And maybe it is madness

to feel someone so deeply

to carry them

like a secret fire in your chest

but if this is what it means

to be utterly taken by love,

then I am gladly consumed

by the wonder of you.

-Need

There are souls

that enter your life so quietly,

you do not realize

they are becoming

part of your breath.

And then one day you wake

and everything

the morning light,

the songs on the radio,

the way the world turns

feels tied somehow to them.

Not because they complete you,

but because loving them

has touched every corner

of who you are.

You miss them

in moments they were never in.

You reach for them

in laughter, in sorrow,

in every small victory

you want to place

gently in their hands.

It is a deep ache

to need someone’s presence

like warmth in winter,

like rain after a drought.

A wandering heart longs to find.

And when they are distant,

the world feels quieter

not empty, but dimmer,

as if some bright thing

has stepped just beyond reach.

Still, love whispers

Hold them gently.

Love them fully.

Let them be human.

For the deepest kind of love

is not in possession

it is in the quiet truth

that someone can matter

so profoundly,

their existence

changes the shape

of your heart forever.

-Unhealthy

What began as love

grew sharp edges.

You became

more than a person

you became my weather,

my sleep, my peace, my ruin

I measured my worth

by the sound of your voice,

counted silence like wounds,

read meaning into every pause,

every glance,

every breath you took

without me in mind.

My world grew smaller

until it was only

the shape of your shadow

and the ache

of trying to hold

what was never mine to own.

Love should feel like open hands,

like trust,

like sunlight through a window

but this became locked doors,

restless nights,

a heart beating too hard

inside a cage of fear.

I called it devotion.

I called it passion.

But truth has a quieter name:

Attachment twisted by hunger,

affection tangled with control,

a beautiful feeling

grown wild without care.

And somewhere beneath

all that desperate reaching,

I remembered

Love is not meant

to consume you whole.

It is meant

to stand beside you,

not become

the only thing

you are.