My Heart Knows Only You

I think of you in the first breath of morning,
before the sun fully opens its eyes,
before the world begins to speak.
You arrive softly, like light through curtains,
settling in my chest before I even remember my name.

You live in my coffee steam,
in the pause between heartbeats,
in the small stretch of silence
right after I wake and realize I’m alive —
and that you are already there with me.

All day, you walk beside me unseen.
When I smile, you are the reason.
When I drift, you are the place I drift toward.
Even when I’m surrounded by voices, laughter, noise —
I am still listening for you in the background of my thoughts.

You slip in quietly,
like a melody that refuses to leave,
like rain that taps gently on the roof of my mind.
I could be talking, working, moving, pretending —
yet part of me is always reaching for you.

No matter where I stand,
no matter how far I go,
my heart keeps turning back
like a compass that only knows one direction.
It doesn’t search. It already knows.

In crowded rooms, I feel you.
In empty nights, I feel you.
In small moments — a song on the radio,
a familiar smell, a piece of sky —
you appear without warning, without effort.

You are in the spaces between my words,
in the way I breathe when I think of you,
in the softness of every memory
that carries your name like a secret.

When darkness falls and the world grows still,
I lie there with my eyes closed,
and you are the last thing I hold onto —
not tightly, but tenderly,
as if you were made to rest there.

I do not chase you in my dreams.
I don’t have to.
You are already woven into them,
like stars stitched into the night sky.

Because loving you is not something I do —
it is something that exists inside me.

And in every quiet second,
in every loud heartbeat,
in every forgotten moment of my day —
you remain.

It has always been you.
It is still you.
And somehow,
it will always be you.