Alive

At 4 a.m., I ache for us.

You sleep soundly in my warm embrace,

Dreaming deeply for hours,

While I weep in the silence of the night.

I cry, but gently, my love,

So as not to disturb your tender slumber.

Your curled lashes rest lovingly

In the darkness of the room.

Your breath caresses my neck,

A warm current flowing softly to my chest.

I try to etch these sensations into my soul,

Hoping to feel them forever,

An eternity stitched from fleeting moments.

Daylight creeps in, wrapping its light

Around the haunting arms of night.

Particles of sun settle on your face,

Illuminating its stillness.

I stare, and for a moment,

You seem a stranger to me—

Not the man I love so deeply,

As if I’ve never known you before.

What’s happening to us, my love?

I dance best to the symphony of your laughter,

The blink of your eyes,

The storm of your gentle touch.

Yet now, I feel inhuman,

A mirage of myself.

You were the gift of my life,

The blessing that steadied my faltering steps

As destiny hurled us into unknown places.

Will I ever see you again, my love?

I long for you to paint me

Onto the canvas of your soul.

All that destroys me only proves

I am alive—completely, painfully,

Utterly alive.