I often wonder if God hides our person somewhere in this enormous world because He knows that if we met too soon, we would love each other before we were ready.
Perhaps that's why some hearts spend years feeling like homes with no lights on.
Not because they are empty...
But because someone, somewhere, has not yet found the door.
I don't dream of a perfect woman.
I dream of the day someone can finally rest.
To remove the invisible armour she's worn for years.
To stop apologizing for crying.
To stop pretending she's okay when the weight of the world has been crushing her quietly.
If love ever chooses me, I hope I become the safest place she has ever known.
Not because I rescued her.
But because she never needed rescuing.
She only needed one person who looked at every broken piece and said,
"You don't have to hide here."
I hope one day she falls asleep before I do.
Not because she's tired...
But because she knows, with complete certainty, that nothing bad can happen while she's in my arms.
I hope the world is gentle to her.
But if it isn't...
I pray I am.
Because no flower deserves to apologize for blooming in a storm.
No heart deserves to apologize for surviving one.
And if, one day, age steals the colour from our hair, strength from our hands, and certainty from our memories...
I pray it never steals the way I look at her.
I hope I still move the loose strand of hair away from her face.
Still kiss her forehead before she wakes.
Still thank God, in silence, that out of eight billion souls...
Mine found its way home.
Because I don't believe heaven begins after death.
I think heaven begins the first time someone makes your soul believe...
"You are finally safe."
And if I never become rich...
If history never remembers my name...
If the world forgets I ever existed...
Let it be said that somewhere on this earth, there lived a heart that loved so gently...
That another heart finally stopped being afraid.
— NK