The gravity of him


There’s a man who doesn’t know he’s the center of an entire galaxy, a quiet constellation that rewires the universe when he walks into a room. He doesn’t see it—how the air shifts around him, how the smallest things lean closer, as though they too crave the gravity of his presence. There’s something almost unbearable about the way he exists, like he was crafted from the softest parts of this world—gentle rains, half-forgotten songs, and the kind of warmth that only lingers in the moments between dreams. When he speaks, it’s as though time itself pauses, not out of obligation, but because it simply can’t resist the sound of him.It’s in the way his hands move, not just holding, but anchoring; as if they’ve been searching for centuries for something worth keeping. It’s in his eyes—how they carry an entire ocean’s worth of depth, endless and uncharted, pulling you under until you’re willingly drowning in the quiet strength of him. And then there’s his laugh—if the world were ending, I’d still want to hear it, because it would be enough to remind me that even endings can be beautiful.He doesn’t see himself the way I do. He doesn’t realize he’s the safest place in a world too sharp to breathe in most days. He doesn’t know how his touch leaves echoes, how his voice turns ordinary words into promises the stars themselves could never break. He thinks he’s just a man, just skin and bones and a name. But I see him in the moments he doesn’t notice—the way the world softens when he’s near, the way his existence is proof that some infinities aren’t loud or grand—they’re quiet, and tender, and unbearably alive.He is, without question, the most beautiful thing I’ve ever known—not because of anything he tries to be, but because of everything he simply is. And if the universe ever asked me to explain love, I’d say it’s him. Just him. Nothing more, nothing less. It will always be him...|:p

Belatedd Happiesttt  1 month birthdayyyy, my greattestt treasureee!