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membru din 21 martie 2023

Can your heart be mine in search

 


                             ˢᵉᵈᵘᶜᵗʳᵉˢˢ
                       دل دے ہے مجھے (ʻD̲i̲l̲ d̲a̲y m̲u̲jh̲e̲ʼ)
                    ʻI promise—there is n̲o̲ u̲n̲i̲v̲e̲r̲s̲e̲ where you
                    arenʼt m̲i̲n̲e̲. I will f̲i̲n̲d̲ yo̲u̲ i̲n̲ e̲a̲c̲h̲ o̲n̲e̲, Amory.ʼ
                          Ȥɑժҽ Ɱҽɑժօաs♥͜͡ˑṢԶẸ1̣

             You were born together, and together you shall be forevermore.
             You shall be together when the white wings of death scatter your
             days.⸺You shall be together even in the silent memory of God.
             But let there be spaces in your togetherness, and let the winds of
             the heavens dance between you.   ℒo̲v̲e̲ one another, but make
             not a bond of love: ⸺ℓet it rather be a moving sea between the
             shores of your souls. Fill each other’s cup but drink not from one
             cup. Give one another of your bread but eat not from the same
             loaf. Sing and dance together and be joyous, but ℓet each one of
             your be alone, even as the strings of the lute are alone though—
                   they quiver with the same music.

                 G̲i̲v̲e̲ yo̲u̲r̲ h̲e̲a̲r̲t̲s̲, b̲u̲t̲ n̲o̲t̲ i̲n̲t̲o̲ e̲a̲c̲h̲ o̲t̲h̲e̲r̲’s̲ k̲e̲e̲pi̲n̲g.
             For only the hand of ℒi̲f̲e̲ can contain your hearts. ⸺And stand
             together yet not too near together: —for the pillars of the temple
             stand apart⸺, ﹠ the oak tree and the cypress grow not in each
              other’s shadow. Kahlil Gibran (ܟ݂ܠܝܠ ܔܒܪܢ)¸ On ℒo̲v̲e̲﹠ℳa̲r̲r̲i̲a̲ge̲

             ˃ S̲e̲a̲po̲r̲t̲ D̲i̲s̲t̲r̲i̲c̲t̲¸ Boston⸺19:05 P.M.
             He had given her time to settle into this chaos—to find her r̲h̲yt̲h̲m̲
             a̲m̲o̲n̲g t̲h̲e̲ u̲n̲w̲r̲i̲t̲t̲e̲n̲ r̲u̲l̲e̲s̲ o̲f̲ h̲i̲s̲ w̲o̲r̲l̲d̲. —And yet, a trace of tension
             still lingered between them, a silence full of unspoken things.
              ʻYou have questions, but you donʼt ask them.ʼ
              ʻWould you answer if I did?ʼ
             Zade smiled, the corner of his mouth barely visible. He leaned his
             head back for a second, contemplating the ceiling, then shifted his
             gaze back to her. ʻDepends what the questions are.ʼ
             It was challenging, but not hostile. It was an invitation to go deeper,
             to break through the walls, just a little. And he knew that meant risk.
              ʻJillian doesnʼt like m̲e̲.ʼ It wasnʼt a question. It was an observation.
              ʻJillian doesnʼt like a̲n̲yo̲n̲e̲ she canʼt control.ʼ
              ʻWhat about you?ʼ
              ʻWhat about me?ʼ
              ʻAre you the kind of man who needs to be i̲n̲ c̲o̲n̲t̲r̲o̲l̲?ʼ
              ʻAmory,ʼ he began, each syllable carrying a weight of its own, ʻif I
             wanted control, I would tell you how to dress for tonight,—I would
             have told you what to say and what not to say—Iʼd tell you h̲o̲w̲ t̲o̲
             l̲o̲o̲k̲, h̲o̲w̲ t̲o̲ b̲r̲e̲a̲t̲h̲e̲, h̲o̲w̲ t̲o̲ m̲o̲l̲d̲ yo̲u̲r̲s̲e̲l̲f̲ perfectly to my decor. But
             I did not do it. Because I donʼt want to fit you into a scenario. I ℓet
             you walk into it as you are⸺—And this is much more d̲a̲n̲ge̲r̲o̲u̲s̲.ʼ


               S̲̣ԶE̲̣б¸ Ɗɾҽω:
             ʻHe went with her to New York for t̲w̲o̲ n̲i̲gh̲t̲s̲. Just the two of them,
             away from any obligation. But nothing happened. Zade—the man
             who a̲l̲w̲a̲ys̲ t̲o̲o̲k̲ w̲h̲a̲t̲ h̲e̲ w̲a̲n̲t̲e̲d̲, who never waited for anything or
             anyone—spent two nights alone with this girl and did nothing.﹠If
             you saw him, honey... heʼs different⸺the way he talks about her.
             T̲h̲e̲ w̲a̲y h̲e̲ l̲o̲o̲k̲s̲ a̲t̲ h̲e̲r̲. He was never like that with F̲r̲a̲n̲c̲e̲s̲c̲a̲. With
             anybody else.  And when we were in M̲i̲a̲m̲i̲, she wouldnʼt talk to
             him because she found out about ℱrancesca. And somehow, I think
             she ended it. A̲n̲d̲ Z̲a̲d̲e̲? Even breaking up with Fran wasnʼt all that
             consuming. H̲e̲ w̲a̲l̲k̲e̲d̲ a̲w̲a̲y—like got up from the meeting and left.
                      And she met E̲d̲a̲n̲ too.ʼ

                          Rհօժҽ:
                       ʻW̲a̲i̲t̲... s̲h̲e̲ m̲e̲t̲ h̲i̲s̲ s̲o̲n̲?!ʼ
                       ℭopyright¸ᔑeɗʋctɾess
                          © 2025.



 
Drew pressed, because he could hear it—the thing Zade wasn’t saying.
Drew pressed, because he could hear it—the thing Zade wasn’t saying.
While staring at the skyline, his fingers were tightening around the glass, before breaking off,; exhaling harshly.
While staring at the skyline, his fingers were tightening around the glass, before breaking off,
His slim fingers lightly tapped against his beer bottle, nodding slowly.
His slim fingers lightly tapped against his beer bottle, nodding slowly.
Zade let out a dry chuckle⸺as if telling Drew that ʻit’s not that simple,ʼ without the existence; of words.
Zade let out a dry chuckle⸺as if telling Drew that ʻit’s not that simple,ʼ without the existence
⸺⸺⸺⸺⸺⸺⸺⸺⸺⸺⸺
⸺⸺⸺⸺⸺⸺⸺⸺⸺⸺⸺
He didn’t answer right away. Instead, just stared out at the city, the weight of the moment; pressing down on him. The lights flickered below, people moving through their lives, yet they both knew this moment was going to change everything. But neither of them could have predicted just how
He didn’t answer right away. Instead, just stared out at the city, the weight of the moment
much it really would. Somewhere in that sea of lights, Zade’s future was unraveling, thread; by thread, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that no matter what he did, this night would haunt him forever.
much it really would. Somewhere in that sea of lights, Zade’s future was unraveling, thread
⸺⸺⸺⸺© 2025⸺⸺⸺⸺
⸺⸺⸺⸺© 2025⸺⸺⸺⸺
The air in Forest Hill hums with the slow rhythm of twilight, where the sky drapes itself in; bruised purples and honey-gold, the last remnants of daylight stretching lazily over the sprawling terraces of Zade’s mansion. The city feels like a distant dream, its urgency drowned beneath the hush
The air in Forest Hill hums with the slow rhythm of twilight, where the sky drapes itself in
of the woods, the flicker of candlelight—, the quiet rhythm of rain tapping against the wide glass; windows. Inside, the air is thick with warmth—the scent of burning wood, faint traces of his cologne lingering in the fabric of the couch where Amory sits curled up, one arm draped over the backrest,
of the woods, the flicker of candlelight—, the quiet rhythm of rain tapping against the wide glass
watching him. ⸺ Zade is at the piano. It’s something she’s only seen him do a handful of times—; his fingers moving across the keys in that effortless way of his, like he isn’t really thinking about it, like the music just flows from him, raw and instinctive.
watching him. ⸺ Zade is at the piano. It’s something she’s only seen him do a handful of times—
⸺The melody is slow, low, the kind that settles deep in her chest, pressing against something; unspoken. Amory’s voice is soft, breaking the quiet between them.
⸺The melody is slow, low, the kind that settles deep in her chest, pressing against something

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