Tatiana, I love you. With the quiet of ordinary mornings. With the fire of every tomorrow I get to spend in your orbit. With everything I am, and everything I’m still becoming.
I whisper it sometimes, just to feel the shape of it on my tongue. Tatiana. Four syllables that feel like a secret and a song all at once. It’s the name I reach for in the dark, the one that turns a house into a home, a day into a reason. tatiana i love you
The morning light doesn’t wake the room so much as it surrenders to it, spilling gold across the pillows. And there, in the center of that quiet glow, is Tatiana. Tatiana, I love you
So here it is, plain and honest, no poetry to hide behind: With everything I am, and everything I’m still becoming
Just that. Just always.