Oreos&OxyeyeDaisies

  When the game grows fierce and your steps grow wild, And the world watches, eager, their faces beguiled, If your laces betray you, if they loosen and stray, Know, my love, I’ll be there to smooth the fray. I’ll kneel on the field as the crowd roars on, With fingers tender, though the moment is drawn. Each knot I’ll weave will hold more than a tie.  It’ll bind my devotion beneath an open sky. Your sweat may fall, your breath may race, But I’ll steady your steps in love’s quiet grace. For in every loop, in every thread I lace, Lives the rhythm of my heart, your steadfast space When you stumble on paths no one else dares tread, I’ll clear the stones, smooth the road ahead. When the sun burns harsh and the shadows grow long, I’ll shield your face, humming your favorite song Let the game rage on, let the stakes run high, Let the ball soar like a dream in the sky. But when you falter, my hands will be true, To tie your shoes—and my soul to you. So play with passion, leap, and stri...

 They say he’s out there, sipping chai, Patiently watching the world go by. With calm that could soothe a stormy sea, He waits, he dreams—oh, just for me. He’s kind, intelligent—a walking TED Talk, Yet humble enough to not mansplain a clock. He reads, he writes, he’s sharp as a tack, Doesn’t ghost-text or leave me on "read back." But let’s be real, has he lost his way? Did Google Maps lead his heart astray? I’m here, dear future husband of mine, While you’re playing chess with Father Time. I hope he’s the calm to my hurricane flair, The yin to my yang, the shampoo to my hair. He’ll listen to rants, never cut me off, And laugh at my jokes (even the ones that are scoff). I want him witty—yes, with wordplay divine, And maybe he can cook, because I can’t boil brine. A man who dances when nobody’s there, And shares all his fries, because that’s only fair. Sarcasm? Oh, let him master that art, A witty remark is the key to my heart. But let him be tender, with eyes that just say, “I...