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Midnight confessions

At midnight hearts begin to speak, The strong grow fragile, lost, and weak. The silence opens every door, To hidden truths we can’t ignore. Midnight confessions softly fall, Like shadows dancing on the wall. The words we hide through all the day, Find moonlit courage on their way. “I miss you” sounds much more sincere, When only stars are left to hear. And broken souls stop wearing masks, Beneath the night that never asks. Perhaps the dark was always kind, A place where truth could breathe and shine. For hearts speak loudest after scars, In whispered talks beneath the stars.

What is love?

What Is Love?

What is love, you gently ask—
A whispered truth, an endless task,
Not something told, but something shown,
A quiet place two hearts call home.

It’s in the warmth of steady hands,
In eyes that try to understand,
In flaws embraced and fears undone,
In battles fought and victories won.

It’s not the spark that fades too fast,
But embers built to burn and last,
Two souls that choose, and choose again,
Through changing skies and storms of rain.

What is love? A sacred art—
The slow surrender of the heart,
Where giving isn’t sacrifice,
And “yours” and “mine” become “our lives.”

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