The Essence of You

I don't love you like a raging fire, but as the earth embraces the silent root:
in the fertile shadows, where what is unseen grows and maintains its height.

I love you in the subtle gesture, the cup you leave warm on the table, the careless pencil on the book, the shadow you project on the wall while you dream.

I love you in the light silence,
in the phrase left unspoken because it was already fully known.

I love you in the breakup and in the effort to heal it, not with gold, but with company.

I'm not sure if it's the ideal love.

I know it's genuine, like bread that breaks soundlessly, like the passing of the day through the window, like this calm
that needs no compromise.

Because your breath at dawn,
soft and persistent, reminds me that the world, though fragile, though painful, is worth living with you.