They say the universe is silent,
but somehow, I heard you speak;
in a language made of patience,
something gentle, something deep.
You're not just a name, you're a feeling I can't explain,
like the moment before sunrise
when darkness slowly gives way to grace.
I'd been writing in the margins
of a story half complete,
then you walked into the chapter
and changed the entire motif.
You know how people say the world is cold?
Maybe they're right.
But every theorem has its exception…
and mine looks a lot like you.
You carry stars behind your eyes
like you don't even realize
that people searching for light
naturally follow where you glow.
Starcy, you feel rare;
the kind of soul poets spend lifetimes trying to describe,
the type of presence that doesn't just pass through someone's life,
but quietly rearranges it.
So I'm writing this in real time,
no edits, no disguise,
just a boy who found a constellation
hiding in plain sight ✨