Love, If It Were a Place, I’d Never Leave.

If love had walls, they would be built of your laughter, strong and steady, echoing through every corner. If love had a sky, it would be the way your eyes soften when they meet mine—wide, endless, full of something I never want to stop falling into. If love had a scent, it would be your skin in the morning, warm and familiar, wrapping around me like a second home.

If love had hands, they would be yours. Always finding me, even in the dark. Always knowing exactly where to touch, how to hold, how to quiet the noise in my head with just a simple press of your fingers against mine. If love had a voice, it would be yours when you say my name, turning something ordinary into something holy.

If love had a heartbeat, it would be the rhythm of our bodies tangled together, the way my pulse follows yours, the way time stops when we are close. I wonder if you feel it too—the quiet hum of something bigger than both of us, something that feels like it was written long before we ever met.

Love, if it were a place, it would be the space between us that never really feels empty. The space where your presence lingers even when you are far away. Where your words sit in my chest long after the conversation ends. Where the thought of you is enough to make me smile in the middle of a lonely day.

If love were a place, I’d never pack my bags. I’d never glance at the door. I’d never wonder if the world outside had something better to offer. Because nothing out there could ever feel like you. Nothing could ever taste as sweet as waking up knowing you exist, knowing you are mine, knowing this love is real.

I wish I could show you what you mean to me. I wish I could gather every feeling, every heartbeat, every unsaid word and place it in your hands so you could hold it, so you could understand. But love is strange like that—it can be felt, it can be lived, but it can never fully be explained.

All I know is, if love were a place, I’d never leave.

Lost in you forever,

Neta.