Some loves are made of pixels and prayers. This collection holds the ache of almost-connection—the kind that begins with a glowing screen and ends with a quiet heart. These poems are for the ones we loved from a distance, the ones who never knew, the ones who almost answered, and the gods we begged in the dark to make fiction real. It begins with the fantasy of being seen. It ends with the understanding that being loved isn’t about grand signs, but about someone choosing to stay—fully, freely, and here. These verses are part confession, part wish, part soft resignation. Not bitter. Just human. Because even miracles, if they never reach you, are still only dreams.
Illusio dulcis, veritas dura.
