What I carry for you lives in the space between wanting and needing, between the gentle ache of missing someone and the fierce pull of craving their presence like oxygen. It's softer than obsession but harder than casual affection— a longing that settles in the architecture of my chest, rearranging my ribs to make more room for the thought of you. I am caught between the tender devotion of someone who'd wait lifetimes and the reckless urgency of someone who'd burn the world down just to see you smile in the firelight.