sol.ace_r

Love was closer to a force that made my body move
than a quiet feeling blooming somewhere in my heart.

I hesitated countless times in front of you,
and those small tremors eventually pushed me forward.
There were so many words I couldn’t bring myself to say
that some days passed simply by trying to catch my breath.
Even so, I found myself taking one more step toward you.

Love wasn’t about holding on to a thought for a long time—
it was about the way it moved my hands and feet,
the sudden yet unmistakable impulse
to share the warmth I had with you.

Whenever I thought of you,
my heart reacted first,
and my mind always followed far behind.
In that subtle gap between the two,
I finally understood
why I kept walking in your direction.

The strength of love didn’t begin with grand promises.
Something small—so very small—
changed a day,
and that day created another kind of courage.

In the end, I know this much:
every word I send to you,
every movement I make toward you,
is something love itself instructed me to do.
Before my mind can make sense of it,
my heart runs ahead,
and my body simply follows.

That was the way of love as I knew it.