My dearest love, it’s all decided—

I’ve burned the answers, torn the maps.

No more borrowed wisdom left,

just this uncertain path.

And yet each step, however faltering,

draws me closer into you—

a maze without a single guide,

but every turn feels true.

I confess,

there are no answers,

only the trembling in my chest.

Every mistake

becomes a vow,

every silence—an embrace.

I cannot learn

to love you less;

there is no remedy,

only you.

I keep the fragments of my failures,

string them softly like a chain.

Each one glimmers with your shadow,

each one whispers out your name.

If love could heal, if love could wound,

then let it scar me through and through,

for every hurt, my sweetest one,

is just another proof of you.

What if I falter,

what if I’m broken?

Still I would offer

the ashes of me.

Even despair

is a prayer in disguise,

if it carries your face

through the night.

I confess,

there are no answers,

only the fire that burns for you.

Every fall,

every surrender,

is how I keep on loving true.

No remedy,

no final word—

just this confession,

forever you.