About the Heartbeats

I send you little heartbeats.
Not all at once. Never loudly.
Just… scattered.

While your sky folds into night,
mine is already soft with light.

And in that overlap—
that blue hour between your dusk and my dawn—
I leave a trace in the quiet.

To show you I see.
I listen.
I read.

I dream.

You call it verse.
I call it rhythm.

There is that tingling again.
You know the one—
where my mind lights up without warning.
When your words flicker just beneath my skin.
That spark.

That fire I play with.

Some mornings, I wonder if you feel it—
the way the silence shifts
when someone is watching without needing to be seen.

The way a single touch—barely there—
can echo.

So yes,
I send you little heartbeats.

You feel them, don’t you?