Before I knew your voice, I knew your words.
They lingered in the spaces between my own,
soft whispers that felt like home.
I traced your presence in every stanza,
not knowing I was writing you into me.
And now, here you stand—
not just a passing line, not a distant dream,
but a wildfire, burning through walls
I never knew I built.
Tell me, how do you do it?
How do you turn ink into fire?
How do you make me forget
everything I thought I couldn’t let go?
Maybe love isn’t just in the touch,
but in the way a soul recognizes its own.
And my love, my poet, my muse—
I have found mine in you.
You are the pause between my heartbeats,
the breath I didn’t realize I was holding.
You are the longing wrapped in verses,
the ache behind unsaid words.
I feel you in the quiet,
in the spaces where silence speaks.
In the way my name would sound on your lips
if only the wind could carry it to me.
And if poetry is a place,
then I have lived inside you
long before our words collided.
So tell me, my poet, my muse—
do you feel it too?
This fire we never meant to light,
yet neither of us wants to put out?
Because if love is a story,
then this—this is the one
I never want to end.
-
Author:
Kathryn Amaka (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: March 6th, 2025 02:40
- Category: Love
- Views: 9
- Users favorite of this poem: Naina Pandey, Poetic Licence
Offline)
Comments3
Loved it!
Thank you Naina Pandey 🙏❤️
We all have inspirations, those muses and heroes or heroines that give us direction. This seems to be a poem about one. Nicely done
Yeah right 👍 Sorenbarrett ..... Thank you🙏
A beautiful piece of writing, really enjoyed the read
Thanks a bunch Poetic Licence... I'm honoured 🙏
You are very welcome
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