Velvet Love

Sometimes love is not a storm, but a lingering fog. It seems that everything is still close by, but one step to the side and you can no longer see where the shore was. People part not with a scandal, but with a quiet ‘be happy,’ which then echoes in your ribs. You try to patch up the hole with someone else's kindness, you look into smiles, into eyes, you search for familiar warmth - and suddenly you catch yourself realising that all this is a rehearsal for something that can never be brought back.

But inside, a little dream still lives: of a house that smells of cats and sunshine, where someone laughs in the kitchen, where love doesn't burn out, but simply remains - familiar, quiet, your own.