The river running,
not quite Sapphire Blue,
but regardless,
it still reminds me of you.
A smile
tucked beneath the collar
of a winter coat
as fairy lights blurred
and the mulled wine cooled.
Why does my heart feel so bad?
In a world
that spins loud
you are
the quiet.
They say
the bronze horseman
never moves—
cast in defiance,
rooted in storm.
But I could swear
he turned once,
just slightly,
towards the river—
like he too
remembered
what it was
to be still,
and safe,
in the presence
of another.
You make beauty
feel effortless—
not just in how
the light caught you,
but in how you gave it away.
Quick with wit,
quiet with care,
you can read a room
and still choose
kindness.
Once,
I called you
princess—
but only because
queen
felt too formal.
Somewhere between
the ache and the knowing
there is
peace—
not in the forgetting,
but in the remembering.
Not a question,
not a path—
just a pause
in the stillness.
A light left on.