When I Still Didn't Know If I'd Ever See You Again

 💌 Letter 1: Before the Reunion

When I Still Didn't Know If I'd Ever See You Again

My dearest,
There are some names
the soul doesn’t forget—
yours was always one of them.

I’ve tried—tried to let go,
tried to file the past away in silence.
But every now and then,
something—
a scent in the air,
a shade of light on someone’s shoulder—
takes me back to the first time you looked at me,
and everything inside me
stood still.

I’ve walked through years
pretending I don’t miss you,
but in truth—
my eyes have searched crowds
like they were pages
and you were the one line
I was meant to find again.

Maybe you’ve forgotten.
Maybe life has layered too many seasons over that first spring.
But if this letter reaches you,
and something in you stirs,
even a little—
then perhaps
this love we never finished
has been waiting
just as I have.

Still yours,
In silence and memory,
Me.

---

💌 Letter 2: After the Reunion

The Day We Found Each Other Again

My love,
I don’t know how we managed it—
after all this time,
after all those years of not knowing,
not hearing,
not speaking—
we’re here.

You stood before me,
and it was as if
no distance had ever dared
to keep us apart.

But I couldn’t speak.
Not at first.
Because my heart
was drinking you in—
every smile-line,
every pause in your breath,
every memory
still glowing in your gaze.

And when you finally said my name,
it wasn’t sound—
it was a return.

We didn’t need to explain.
We didn’t need to fix anything.
We only needed to feel
what never stopped beating
inside us.

We have changed, yes.
But what lives between us—
it hasn’t.

It was never meant to be loud.
It was meant to last.

Yours,
Then, now, always.

---

💌 Letter 3: In the Quiet Afterward

Now That Love Simply Is

Beloved,
There’s no longer a need
for declarations.
No rush.
No fire.
Just the gentle flame
that keeps glowing
in our everyday stillness.

I watch you read in the morning light—
and in that moment,
I feel more love
than I ever knew how to say.

We don’t finish each other’s sentences.
We don’t need to.
Because we speak
in glances now.
In shared silences.
In the warmth of tea cups passed
without a word.

What we have
is not the kind of love
that poems shout about.
It’s the kind
they whisper about
in the hush after the poem ends.

I don't need forever.
I just need
this quiet,
this now,
this us.

Yours,
With every silent breath.