piano; a single note hangs—then a heartbeat.
phone glow at midnight, trembling thumb, i read your name,
a message like a comet cutting through the plain,
you wrote hello beneath the hum of a sleepless street,
a stranger’s word that found the hollow where i keep my heat.
small sentences turned into constellations on my screen,
every late reply felt closer than it seemed.
you stitched your voice into the edges of my nights,
a quiet revolution, soft and sudden as daylight.
you became my everything, the light that calls me home,
i’d cross the worst of storms, i’d never walk alone.
your gifts gleam at the surface, but what i bury runs deep—
your late-night coffee in plastic still tastes like the place i sleep.
you are my constant, my only gravity.
there’s your jacket on my chair, its pockets hold your laugh,
a receipt with your handwriting folded in my half-dreams' path.
sleepless hours i trade for one more message from your hand,
i keep the little things you give like maps to where i land.
you send me songs at two a.m., the chords that calm my chest,
i learn the language of your pauses, how you say i'm blessed.
material light glitters, but the shape of you is clearer still,
a footprint in the ordinary, the quiet of your will.
you became my everything, the light that calls me home,
i’d fight for you, hold on through the night, wherever we roam.
your presents are details, but the truth is what i keep:
a plastic cup of coffee tastes like home, when you are in the beat.
you are my constant, my only gravity.
sometimes i catch my shadow bargaining with the sky—
guilt for leaning on your comfort, fear of asking why.
what if i lose the voice that made my silence brave?
what if this love is fragile and i’m asking it to save?
i whisper vows into the dark that tremble like a prayer:
if everything falls apart, i’ll still find you there.
you are my everything, the shore i run toward in the sea,
i’d burn my bridges for the shape of you that keeps me free.
all the trinkets fold into the story that we weave,
your late-night coffee tastes like home—when you’re the reason i breathe.
you are my constant, my only gravity.
piano soft, strings lift—your name becomes my own.
no longer just a stranger in my phone; you are the place i call home.
