You tell me,
“You are my little wonder
——my everything
—my sweetheart
—the smallest of my hours
—the twist of every fate.”
You tell me,
“I want to cook for you,
I want to kiss your tears,
I want to pick you up
and watch you walk towards my car.”
You tell me,
“You are my home.”
What you really mean is,
“I love you.”
Many actions.
One language.
What you really mean is,
“I love you.”
—R.
© 2026 Rhéa Hleihel. All rights reserved.
Featured image: Unknown
