You didn’t rush me. You waited, and that was healing.

There’s a kind of love hidden here. Quiet, but real.

Like someone whispered ‘me too’ to your quiet pain.

Reading this was like finding a letter I never sent.

I don’t even know how to describe it, just… yes.

Feels like a place where time stretches out.

A lantern barely piercing the void. So lonely.

A soft place to land—that’s what this is.

This isn’t just mist — it’s memory made visible

If longing had a shape, it would look like this.