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I cut loose from yesterday’s quay, made the very storms my lee; I took up brand-new dice to choose the gambler’s bliss is the art to lose. To fall again, I need new ground, old wounds clot, new scars must be found Even stone might split and leaf, if tears bore force beyond belief. Darkness ends neither today nor tomorrow; one uprising of flame will rout its sorrow. Grief is life’s lone verity; still practise the smile’s small levity. Dreams are fragile, but still they stay, like roots that fight through stone and clay. The heart learns from every scar reading its fate on shattered star When nothing remains but sand the soul keeps dealing its final hand

Love isn’t about how much time you spend together. It’s not about sitting in the same room or sharing the same bed. Real love is when someone believes in you. Sometimes we lose faith in ourselves. We don’t see any worth. We feel broken, tired, and too small to keep going. And in those moments, nothing really fills the emptiness inside. In those moments, what saves you is not advice, not big words just knowing there is one person who still trusts you, who still sees something in you even when you don’t. That’s the kind of love that gives you strength to stand again. That’s what makes all the difference.