Slightly softer feels every breath of the wind.
Endless letters come to the house where you live,
Each one signed carefully by one and the same name —
The first letter is 🔤, that's a dead giveaway.

When the paths of the busy life finally connect you and me,
Every new conversation will become part of our history —
The silence between our laughter, the pauses and cracks
Will lay out the foundation for the future ahead.

My former lovers and foes remain in long-forgotten dreams,
In visions I've seen but never got the chance to live.
I've learnt to let the past slowly decay in its shell,
And, to a bright future, I've taken a confident step.

Why does the world get warmer when I look at you?
The grass turns emerald, the water is clear and blue.
And I can feel my feet standing firmly on the ground,
As I absorb all the happiness that's floating around.

A simple "🔤 love you" will not be enough to express what I feel.
"🔤 adore you" is closer but still not exactly what I want it to be.
There's no hidden meaning, just pure fondness and joy.
How lucky I am to have you as my favourite boy!

Slightly softer feels every breath of the wind.
Endless letters come to the house where you live,
Each one signed carefully by one and the same name —
The first letter is 🔤, that's a dead giveaway.

𖦹 ׂ 𓈒 🤩 ／ ⋆ and, as long as I'm alive, you'll hear every tiny thing that I find intriguing about you, too

I grew up with princesses, fairies, and ponies,
So I spent my teenage years writing my own stories,
Chasing after metaphors that never felt quite right,
Engrossing myself in every whisper 'fore it took flight.

I grew up scared of real feelings, of holding hands.
The greatest enemy I got were the books I had read.
I treated love like competitions, my poems as the prize.
I gave away my heart in pieces, one each day — oh, what a price!

My planet revolver around the desire to be loved.
I crawled out of my skin for them, yet I wasn't enough.
So, after following delusions, hallucinations, and ghosts,
It feels unreal standing at the threshold of a nice and welcoming home.

My hand stays frozen to the handle: I can't, don't dare move.
This feels better than I'd imagined, even better than it should.
I take a few small steps — and somebody pulls me in —
His embrace is soft like angels, and, to it, I want to cling.

My joy's no longer seen as "burden", and my smile no longer burns;
My voice has got so much stronger — I can now compete with birds.
There's a gentle presence as I close my eyes to fall asleep.
Believing in fairy tales is best thing that's happened to me.