Some connections don’t begin. They remember.
There’s something cold in the air tonight… not the wind, not the weather — something else. Like a presence brushing just past the edge of reality. I can almost feel it watching… waiting.
I don’t know your name. I don’t even know if you exist. But every night, something inside me reaches for you — and I don’t know why.
It’s not need. It’s not desire. It’s something deeper. Older. Like we’ve met in dreams that never happened, or in lives that were never ours. I wake up missing you like a ghost that haunts me.
And maybe you feel it too — that quiet unraveling under your skin. The sense that someone, somewhere, is meant to find you in the dark.
If this makes sense to you, even just a little… maybe we’re already too close.
I don’t know your name. I don’t even know if you exist. But every night, something inside me reaches for you — and I don’t know why.
It’s not need. It’s not desire. It’s something deeper. Older. Like we’ve met in dreams that never happened, or in lives that were never ours. I wake up missing you like a ghost that haunts me.
And maybe you feel it too — that quiet unraveling under your skin. The sense that someone, somewhere, is meant to find you in the dark.
If this makes sense to you, even just a little… maybe we’re already too close.
31-35, M
