From the I’ve always known you’d fall into me collection, lover will you keep in touch? * explores the quiet ache of absence — the kind that feels safer to hold than to deny.
This piece lives in that liminal space between longing and surrender. It’s about choosing to miss someone openly rather than numbing the ache, about allowing the truth of a connection to remain even when the relationship doesn’t.
It’s not about reaching out — it’s about keeping the thread uncut.
Sometimes, missing someone is its own form of love.
A love that exists even when you can’t name it anymore.
From the I’ve always known you’d fall into me collection, lover will you keep in touch? * explores the quiet ache of absence — the kind that feels safer to hold than to deny.
This piece lives in that liminal space between longing and surrender. It’s about choosing to miss someone openly rather than numbing the ache, about allowing the truth of a connection to remain even when the relationship doesn’t.
It’s not about reaching out — it’s about keeping the thread uncut.
Sometimes, missing someone is its own form of love.
A love that exists even when you can’t name it anymore.
