Some people think love dies loudly, some say silently.
With final fights, slammed doors, or unforgivable words.
But often…
Love doesn’t die.
It just gets buried.
Buried under the stress of life.
Buried beneath unmet needs.
Buried by silence that lasted too long… and truths that came too late.
It’s still there—beating faintly beneath the weight of it all.
Like fire under ash.
Waiting for someone to breathe again.
There was a time when we looked at each other and felt seen.
Not just liked. Not just admired.
Seen.
There was a time when you could rest in my arms and feel safe.
When my voice calmed you.
When your laughter softened me.
When we were more than just “trying” — we were simply being.
That time was real.
That connection was true.
And even now—after the storms, the scars, the silence—
something in us still remembers.
Maybe we didn’t break.
Maybe we just stopped watering what was sacred.
Maybe we let fear grow louder than truth.
Maybe we got tired, not of each other—but of the version of ourselves we became inside the struggle.
And maybe now…
with breath.
With stillness.
With soul.
We can begin again.
Not from scratch.
But from the ashes.
Where the strongest things are reborn.
Because I’ve dug through the layers.
I’ve sat with my own pain.
I’ve owned the patterns.
And I’ve found something buried beneath it all— Us.
Not the hurt. Not the noise.
The thread. The bond. The 7 vows that never left, even when we did.
What if love was never broken—just buried under layers of fear, exhaustion, and misalignment?
And now… you’re strong enough to uncover it?
Not for the past.
Not to please anyone.
But because you still feel it flicker inside you, quietly asking:
Could we still matter?
And I believe the answer is yes.
Not because we must. But because we were always meant to.
And when two souls are meant…
life may scatter them,
but truth always calls them back.
Just remember the feeling.
The gaze. The stillness. The truth.
And if you find it again in your heart— then you’ll know:
This was never finished.
Just waiting.
For the right time.
And the right kind of love.
The kind that doesn’t just relive the past—
but rises into a future born from soul, not survival.
