If You are With Me
To the lovers , Whose hearts overflow with love, yet find themselves loving someone made of stone. To those who still choose to burn quietly, hoping their warmth might teach the stone how to feel. This is for the ones who loved without measure, even when love was never returned in the same language. Some places remember love even when people forget it. That coffee shop did. The table did. Even the ceramic cup still carried the heat of moments that once meant something. They returned to the same place, but not to the same feeling. What once felt safe now felt unfamiliar , like revisiting a memory that no longer recognises you. Earlier, when love still lived between them, he would stand up without being asked. He would bring an extra tissue and wrap it around her fingers so the burning ceramic cup wouldn’t hurt her skin. It was never dramatic. Just care, folded into instinct. Back then, she believed that gesture meant protection, that it came from love and not repetition....
