a quiet undoing 

i was smitten by you,
like a leaf catching fire
in the gentlest breeze.
you didn’t mean to burn me,
but the warmth was impossible to refuse.

you were the kind of beautiful
that didn’t announce itself,
not loud or adorned—
just raw,
like sunlight filtering through cracked blinds,
reaching places
that had never been touched.

you spoke in ways
that rewrote my silence,
made me believe in words again.
every glance from you
felt like a hymn,
and i sang it
long after you left.

but love doesn’t always linger
the way we want it to.
sometimes it fades like chalk on pavement,
washed away in the quiet storm
of living without someone.

and yet,
you remain.
in the corners of my mind,
in the soft echo of laughter,
in the ache of what never fully bloomed.
you taught me
that even fleeting things
can change the shape of a soul.

you didn’t stay—
but the fire never fully left me.
and now i know,
to be smitten
is to be undone,
gently,
forever.