I’ll match your pace, not rush or race, let time weave bonds in this sacred space. For every step, I’ll hold your hand, until you’re sure where we will stand. If love’s a risk, then let it be a journey shared by you and me. And when you’re ready, hearts aligned, we’ll write our stars, our fates intertwined.
So sleep, sweet Gizmo, in fields of endless grace, knowing I’ll love your kin as you loved me. For in their eyes, I’ll find your patient trace, a whisper that keeps us steady, wild, and free.
So here I stand in paths you've shown, to seek new stars and guard my own— but know that when dawn lies fort and dim, I may still write of you again.
In every pause, in every break, between the strides I’m bound to take, I feel the echo of your song, a warmth that holds when nights feel long.
So I’m learning to be still, to let the moments flow, To wait with open hands, and let my patience grow. If love means giving room to breathe, to face your private night, Then I’ll be here, a steady flame, until you find the light.
Did I rush? Was I too bold? I ache for answers left untold. Can’t face the doubt etched in your gaze, but I feel it burn, a smoldering blaze.
So here we stand, the past a distant shore, the present trembling on the edge of flight. Two hearts that beat in rhythm once before may finally find their perfect, shared delight.
What if my roar should silence all I crave? And in your course, I seem a passing fire? Still, hope does burn beyond what caution gave, That stars might bind our paths in warm desire.
If stars must wander, free to fly, then tell me—are we meant to try? Or will this light, so fiercely bright, fade to embers in the night?
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