When Love First Arrives: An Introduction to Where the Stars First Saw Us
Where the Stars First Saw Us is the opening movement of Instinctual Love, a section devoted to the raw beginnings of attraction—those first glances, chance encounters, and fleeting moments that change everything. Here, the poems linger on the instant when two souls recognize one another, even before words are spoken. They explore how beauty, desire, and fate can collide in ways that feel larger than life, as if guided by forces written long before we were born.
In these verses, love is compared to music, rising like a crescendo until silence itself transforms into song. It is the spark in a woman’s gaze that feels like gravity pulling you closer. It is the storm of longing that refuses to be contained by logic. Each poem captures the tension between fantasy and reality, between what we dare to imagine and what actually unfolds. Love appears suddenly—magnetic, unstoppable, sometimes overwhelming—and yet it carries both sweetness and ache.
This first section sets the tone for the entire book by immersing readers in the beauty of unplanned connection. It shows how memory becomes myth, how longing becomes devotion, and how the smallest encounters—a passing look, a few spoken words, the rhythm of silence—can shape the heart for a lifetime. These poems remind us that even when love feels impossible, its arrival is always miraculous. To fall in love is to step outside of time, to live in a moment that folds past and future into the present.
Where the Stars First Saw Us is about that moment of recognition: when instinct knows before reason, when attraction bends the rules of the universe, and when we realize that even a glance can carry the weight of destiny.
Table of Contents – Section I: Where the Stars First Saw Us
- Crescendo
- Living the Dream of Others
- The Gravity of Her Gaze
- A Perfect Storm
- Where Time Folds
- Even If It Burns Me
- I Left Your Office Defeated
- The Part I Never Meant to Steal
- Not Gone
- The Dance That Never Ends
- Paper-Fortune Kisses
- A Wink Away
- When Words Escape You
- Let It Be Known
Continue Reading
→ Section II: The Beautiful Wound
→ Section III: Flesh Remembered the Flame
Section 1: Where the Stars First Saw Us
Crescendo
(a feeling rising beyond reason)
Lately, a woman caught my eye—
and I can’t seem to blink her away.
She lingers,
like a song I once knew
but never learned the name of.
There’s something about her…
as if I met her before—
in another life,
or a dream I never wanted to leave.
She has a story,
one I want to hear
in her voice,
her smile,
the way she looks at the world.
I have a story too—
one I want her to know.
To feel.
To carry.
She is true to a word I dare not speak—
beauty and fire,
a perfect match.
Or so I’d like to believe.
Maybe it’s only
a fantasy.
But lately, it’s been building—
rising inside me
like a crescendo:
that moment in music
just before it crashes
into something unforgettable.
That’s what I want to give her—
the kind of closeness
only two souls understand
where silence becomes music.
Living the Dream of Others
(a reflection)
Since I met you,
it feels like I’ve been living inside a film.
The tension,
the energy—
the kind people chase in books and television.
But we didn’t have to invent it or pretend.
We lived it.
We became
the very dreams others watch to feel something.
The ideal romance,
not imagined,
but manifest—
real enough to touch,
and tender enough to ache.
When you walked away that day,
your scarf draped over your head,
there was majesty in your preparation—
a quiet ritual,
as if you knew
you were stepping into a scene
that would live on in me.
The way you moved—
it was elegance itself,
a grace rarely seen
outside the silver screen.
And there I was,
hand to cheek,
gazing through a rainy window,
jazz humming softly behind me,
watching a memory form
as heaven briefly touched the earth.
The Gravity of Her Gaze
(a reflection)
Your eyes—
yet to be classified,
dimension of origin: unknown.
Eyes few have ever entered,
guarded like the gates of heaven.
They possess the might
and pull of a black hole—
a portal of hope,
an unknown beauty that shattered
beliefs I once trusted.
You caught me
the day you sat by the window.
I could see all of you
as the glass surrounding you
held you in light,
and shared you with my eyes.
You looked at me once—
and I’ve been trapped ever since,
your image is etched in my mind
like ancient carvings in stone.
And now that I’m trapped,
I’ve decided to dive deeper
and seek clues and truths
in hopes of discovering the source
of your magic and power—
a cosmic fate I cannot escape.
Everything I’ve ever known—
crushed.
Every dream—defeated—
as I will never have you.
But why scratch the surface
when a world of wonders
awaits within?
I want it all—
even the hopelessness and despair
that comes from never sharing your air.
If your eyes are an ocean
that swallows souls,
then I’ll keep swimming—
even if it takes
my last breath away.
For what waits at the center
in the dark of eyes and tides,
has the power to transform
even the simplest creatures
into believers of wonder,
into seafarers of truth.
A Perfect Storm
(a confession)
I did not seduce her to possess her.
I seduced her because I couldn’t help but follow the current she pulled from within me—
that rare magnetic force between souls before words could ruin it.
The kind of draw that bends time and fractures logic.
Call it fate, call it madness—
but there was a moment we stood inside it, helpless to escape.
She asked if I tried to seduce her.
I told her the truth:
I did.
But not for a quick fix—
for forever.
There are storms you do not outrun.
And she was mine.
No one could’ve escaped the way I loved her.
Not even her.
I didn’t claim to be righteous.
I didn’t even claim to be good.
I only knew what she made me feel—
and I wanted more of it.
I thought we were destined.
I was willing to suffer years just to finally have her.
She wished I hadn’t done it—
but love is chaotic.
It doesn’t obey the laws of reason.
So I asked her to forgive me
for loving without a plan.
She didn’t know what to make of it, not then.
She had her reasons, her wounds, her regrets, her vows.
And yet, she shared her truth:
when I met her, she was lost.
She couldn’t see the love she already had.
She thought something was missing—
for the heart goes blind and deaf
when words and actions no longer speak
the soul’s language.
A soul regains sight
when love insists on being seen.
Maybe her love had only fallen asleep.
Maybe it had always been there,
just hidden in plain sight.
The truth is, she was alone—
unnoticed, unheld, uncelebrated.
Taken for granted,
as if a woman’s heart couldn’t be bruised.
She said she felt like filth,
her morals lost, her soul doomed.
Said she hated that she thought of me when she made love to him.
Said she used to sleep well at night—
before the storm,
before our minds whispered across silence,
before we lived apart in a dream world where possibility had no rules.
I refused to let her believe she was ruined—
for a soul that repents is not broken;
it is ready.
I told her what she couldn’t yet believe:
that she was good.
That she helped others heal—with her words, her hands, her presence.
That she was a mother,
carrying the weight of the world like any of us—
flawed and holy in the same breath.
She was kind in a cruel world.
A woman who never judged,
because her beauty had made her a student of suffering.
And even in her ache, she remained beautiful—
in a world that breaks its most tender hearts.
Who are we to judge?
We haven’t walked her path.
We haven’t felt her wounds.
We haven’t survived her storms.
In her pain, she blessed me.
Said she hoped I would marry the woman I was now with.
Said she wanted me to be happy.
That was her act of unconditional love.
But I could only confess
that I had already lost the part of me
that believed in such endings.
She and another before had already
taken pieces of me.
What I had left was memory—
fragments.
And that is what I offer anyone who tries to love me:
a memory of what love once felt like,
a broken record of a longing song repeating itself
in quiet corners of dim lit rooms.
Still, I let her keep my heart.
Even broken but where beautiful memories remain.
I gave it so she could heal her own.
When she asked if I still loved her,
I said,
“I do.”
Not as a reflex.
Not as a habit.
But as a vow I could not unmake.
She changed me.
I told her if it ever appears I don’t love her,
it’s only because I had to learn
to see our story in the softest, kindest way—
or else fall apart.
I had to forsake the part of me that still wanted to run—
to vanish with her into some imagined afterlife of love,
untouched by rules, by rings, by time.
I had to bury those wishes—
not because they were untrue,
but because fate would not allow them to live.
And so I surrendered.
Not to indifference.
But to something gentler than desire.
I chose the light.
I chose the meaning.
I chose to hold us—
not in bitterness,
but in reverence.
And if love sleeps,
then let it sleep.
But know this—
my love is not the kind that dies on broken nights.
It flickers beneath time.
It belongs to something older than us.
It existed long before we met,
and it will exist long after we are gone—
so long as there are hearts still capable of ruin,
and souls still brave enough to remember.
A never ending truth.
Where Time Folds
(a confession)
It’s only been an hour.
But it feels like a month.
I feel I’ve lost a piece of me,
like something precious has gone missing—
a warmth misplaced,
a beat taken away.
Two hours with you felt like ten minutes.
And now, ten minutes without you stretch like two hours.
A fire nurtures as much as it burns.
And I am a man on fire—
captured by both the warmth and the heat
which burns my soul.
My love beyond reach…
I could sit beside you for days,
and time would stop.
Not in the theatrical way we say it,
but in the way the world actually halts—
when breath suspends,
when light softens,
in those moments that linger
when beginnings and endings blur.
Where the unknown begins,
and the old is forgotten.
Where rules are put to the test.
A moment where divinity enters,
and beauty is seen in layers—
each one revealing a truth
once too blind to bear.
An experience that rattles the soul out of its
mundane existence.
What else can stop time like that
but death and rebirth?
It’s a feeling that brushes close to the eternal—
the kind that makes God look our way,
to either bless or condemn.
I yield to both,
but my heart refuses to condemn,
for I am blinded by the light I see.
Because the love I feel for you
feels fated—
not summoned.
Not designed.
But chosen
by something older than us—
something that has always been,
and always will be.
I would be lying if I said
I didn’t want a chance at loving you.
Not the shadow of it.
Not the ache of what could be—
but the actual experience
of holding your hand
and calling it mine.
Though we cannot be here—
I believe there is a version of us that is.
Somewhere, in another life,
in some tender fold of time,
I have you.
And for now,
that must be enough.
That version of me lives fulfilled.
Grateful.
Whole.
That piece gives me peace.
A truth I surrender to.
In our time here today,
your smile gives me power.
Your presence, hope.
Your mind, inspiration.
All that’s missing is your hand—
the one I hold in a different time.
Maybe you will always remain
on the other side of time.
And if it’s years that separate us,
then I’ll have the patience of a sniper.
And if it’s another world,
then I’ll move through worlds to reach you.
Either way—
I’ll wait.
Only time will tell
what fate will allow.
My pain tells me to forget you.
But my soul?
My soul whispers to come get you.
Which voice should I trust?
They’ve both led me to sorrow.
But only when my soul decided
did my heart find peace—
whole, and one,
even in pain.
I know I can’t take
what hasn’t been given.
But I can give.
And what I give
is love.
Forgive my confession.
Even If It Burns Me
(a vow)
Whether now or far in the future—
or if it never happens at all—
I always loved you.
I loved you before I ever met you.
And if I never saw you again,
I’d still be grateful—
even if the only proof you existed
was the ache left behind.
To be loved,
to weep for someone you’ve never held,
is a blessing too few ever know.
You—
you bring happiness by existing.
The idea of you alone
is enough to absorb the skies.
The sight and touch of you?
A gift. A divine answer I never earned.
If I had one wish,
it would be to meet you again—
even if I had to lose you every time.
I’d die a thousand deaths
just for the chance to see you once more.
It breaks my heart to know
you fear not seeing me again.
I understand.
My logical mind tries to quiet the ache—
reminding me we both danced near flame,
and we both got burned.
Did we go too far?
I can’t explain how love happened—
no one ever defined it for me.
But when you see something clearly,
you don’t need a definition.
You just know.
To suppress it
is to give up a piece of yourself—
the very piece that hardens when silenced.
And once it hardens,
it stops dreaming.
So I won’t suppress.
Here I am—
revealing myself to you.
I love you.
And I love you enough
to suffer a lifetime
just for one more moment.
We don’t know what the future holds.
You said that once.
And I’ve held onto it—
because we are emotional creatures.
We must let it out.
I cherish you.
Even if all I’m granted is
one minute, one glance, one breath.
To express myself with you—
to make love to you—
feels like the only truth
that could ever fulfill me.
Being with you every day
is only a dream right now.
But making love to you—
that was real.
I’ll keep dreaming for both.
Maybe I burn.
Maybe I scar.
But I won’t let the pain define me.
I keep moving—
even if it’s back into the fire.
I left Your Office Defeated
(a hope that stayed)
I left your office defeated.
I wished the time would never end.
And without saying it,
you told me to forget it.
You told me later
you went home and cried.
My attraction has only grown since then—
and I don’t know
how much further it can grow.
I think I’m at the top of the emotion now.
“I feel the same way,”
you once said.
And still,
I’m evolving into acceptance—
that it could be a long time
before we could be together.
If ever.
So I’m making peace with that.
And also,
I’m hopeful—
that maybe something else could happen.
That maybe
there is a path for us.
So I’m open.
Or at least I’m trying to be.
And whatever happens—
I want to keep loving you.
The Part I Never Meant to Steal
(a door left open)
She once told me she wished I didn’t have feelings for her—
that it would make our lives easier.
It was as if her heart couldn’t turn away
from the warmth of being loved.
Not everyone can.
Not when love arrives so innocently—
unafraid, unmasked, unhidden.
Who can look away from a pulsing heart
exposed from its being—
an act of innocence,
vulnerable and authentic
in a world that hides behind judgment?
My love must have been like an infant
arriving at a doorstep uninvited,
wrapped in fabric by a flying bird,
or a lost puppy seeking shelter.
But behind those innocent eyes
lay desire with directed intention—
a conviction that something special was discovered,
like an esoteric clue
about the nature of love.
I couldn’t unsee what I saw.
In hindsight,
part of me wishes I had looked the other way.
But I couldn’t.
From the moment I saw you,
I believed we could have had a life together—
something rare,
something true.
And if I could’ve seen into the future,
maybe I would’ve moved somewhere far away—
someplace quiet,
where broken pieces take longer to heal.
Because I was broken when I first laid eyes on you.
And you healed me
just by being you.
Now,
I fear I may have robbed you of something.
As if each word spoken
took a piece of you with me—
slowly,
painfully.
I never wanted that.
What I wanted
was to uproot you gently,
to plant you in fertile soil,
to give you sunshine and peace.
To give you everything.
But now—
I want you to have all those things
even if I’m not the one beside you.
I still love you.
And I always will.
I share this only to show you
what you mean to me.
I keep the door open—
not only as a promise,
but as a place
where truth lives.
Your curse is your big heart
and open ears.
My curse is a broken heart
and a mouth that speaks too much.
Somehow, they met each other
and made something beautiful,
even if only for a while.
Maybe it’s not meant to be in this moment.
But maybe, someday—
when the wind shifts,
when the wounds settle—
maybe it will.
Until then,
I’ll be your ears—
to listen,
to hold space,
and to help you take back
whatever part of you
I never meant to steal.
Not Gone
(a quiet devotion)
I’m not gone.
I want to wait.
I’m not ready to forget.
I ache
knowing your heart is broken—
not seeing you,
not hearing your voice,
not feeling your presence.
I said I loved you
because being near you
felt like remembering something
I’d never known
but always carried.
From the moment we met,
something invisible pulled me in.
And when we spoke,
the pull grew stronger.
Each encounter felt like a spell—
as if our words were incantations
reviving some ancient love that once bloomed.
The silence between us
grew louder in glances,
in something neither of us asked for
but both felt we needed.
Your voice.
Your smile.
Even the smallest things—
a freckle,
the shape of your hands—
have become a part of my world.
I want to be close—
every hour,
every breath.
When I asked to keep things light,
it wasn’t indifference.
It was desperation.
A way to stay near
without frightening the truth.
If I can’t have you,
I still want to know you—
even if only by trace,
even if only in silence.
I want to see you again.
But I also want to honor your space—
to let you decide
without pressure,
without rush.
I don’t want you to regret.
There’s something sacred in you—
something I never want to disturb.
With every breath,
you radiate something I always believed existed—
but had never seen
with my own eyes.
And still,
I carry fear—
fear of this mystery come to life,
fear that you’ll see me
as a trick,
a seducer,
a man with borrowed words.
But I’m not.
Surely you see that.
Surely you feel it.
This isn’t a game.
It never was.
And it never will be.
You’re always on my mind—
not in a loud way,
but like a hum behind everything beautiful.
Like a hummingbird—
defying gravity,
blessing the eyes
with glistening wings.
Sometimes I stare into the wild of my mind
in places we never shared
but imagined we had—
not out of longing,
but because something in the day
reminds me of how you made it feel
when time paused.
And if it seems like I’m unraveling,
I’m not—
I’m only confessing something beautiful
I was lucky enough to witness.
I’m holding space
for something rare.
A future that feels fated.
If my words ever feel heavy—
forgive me.
I only meant to be honest.
I only wanted to know—
if you see what I see
between us.
And if I never see you again,
know this:
You’ll always be safe with me.
Your memory,
your light,
the way you made me believe
in something beautiful—
I carry it with reverence.
Always.
The Dance That Never Ends
(a note for her)
I’ve never melted for someone
the way I melt for you.
It’s the feeling of bones turning into flesh—
as if everything dense inside me is now soft,
with my heart exposed,
and no chest left to protect it.
When I see you,
I see a love story unfolding.
Every step you take
has the substance of a turning page.
Every time you speak,
the music sings.
Every time we’re together,
there’s a dance that never ends—
like two spirits dancing in an empty house,
flowing through the dark
when no one else is home.
Where there is darkness, we see bright.
And where there is brightness,
we keep our eyes closed—
guided by the light,
but not blinded by it.
When you ate my words,
you tasted my soul in them.
Each letter I wrote was a fruit from you.
Keeping me alive was your substance.
Keeping me around was your sound.
What is mine
will ever be yours.
My words
and my affection
belong to you—
as you have always been my direction.
Even when I was lost,
I knew I would find you.
Even when I was hopeless,
I knew you had to exist.
It has always been a matter of time.
So remember this
when you find yourself drifting—
remember my words
and the vibrations with which you felt them.
My love will forever persist.
What is now
will be tomorrow.
And what is tomorrow
will be forever more.
Paper-Fortune Kisses
(a tender moment)
I want to squeeze your cheeks
until your lips crease like a paper fortune—
folded just right,
where the prize is a kiss,
and every squeeze holds a wish.
Each fold, a moment I want to hold.
Each turn, a dream come true.
Each fate, a truth revealed—
how much I yearn to be close to you.
I count the steps,
spell the colors,
slow down just to see
how your eyes lock with mine—
hypnotized,
like maybe we’ve been here before.
Was it just a game—
or fate playing with paper and breath?
(between moments)
Love, in its lightest forms, still lingers—
even when lips no longer meet,
a glance or a thought is all it takes
to feel close again.
A Wink Away
(always near)
I’m okay.
I don’t need much in this world.
I’m always wishing you well—
sending good vibrations,
rhythms of affection
that ride the wind
whenever I think of you.
I’ll watch you grow older—
whether close or afar.
In ten minutes
every four months,
or in the occasional photo
you feel safe enough to share.
Just know—
I’m always a wink away.
When Words Escape You
(a whisper)
When words escape you,
I catch them—
not to teach,
not to guide,
but to show you:
you are not alone.
What you have felt,
I have felt.
What you have known,
I have known.
What we are,
we share—
quiet as breath,
true as the hues
that seep through your bones.
True as the metal taste
when flesh is broken.
As I rise and watch
the shifting light of truth around me,
I gain sight—
and offer it.
A glimmer,
a step
where none was seen before.
The second step is hidden,
as it always is.
Each footfall
a leap into the unnamed.
Follow me,
as I once followed.
You are not alone.
Where the road leads
is for your eyes alone—
but I will wait.
I will wait for your arrival
and your return,
whispering
in a voice you’ve always known,
in sounds heard
but never spoken.
Let it Be Known
(a voice within)
A burgundy sweater with black pants.
Black thoughts when angry.
Blue pen gripped between skin.
Blue feelings when I am lonely.
Restless thoughts.
Anxiety.
But ask me what rattles me,
and I am clueless—
searching for clues in smoke.
Lost—
but aware of my surroundings.
Just not of the sounds
that give me frustration.
Perpetually bored for days.
I cannot escape.
And perhaps every escape
is simply a distraction.
I seek words—
the comfort of other worlds.
Worlds unlike mine.
Tastes that excite me.
Sounds that move me.
Sights that make me want
to absorb the world
beyond my own eyes.
Enter me,
so I can understand.
So I can become part of you.
I feel distant
even when you are near—
close in the flesh,
but veiled in the fog.
Still,
I see, touch, taste, smell, hear—
everything except the truth.
It’s as if I am you,
though I think I am me.
As if you’re over there,
when in truth,
you are within me.
Then why this separation?
Why this silence
masquerading as solitude?
Maybe I’m meant to feel alone
so I remember I’m not.
Maybe I am where I’m supposed to be.
If that is true,
then I do not seek escape.
I seek to surrender.
To feel.
To be an eyewitness
to the inner world—
mine and yours.
To the world that shapes me.
To the one you’ve grown in.
Let it be known:
you are not alone.
But maybe—
just maybe—
the very things you long to escape
are the parts of yourself
asking to be seen.
Escape not.
Let the truth reveal.
The Lasting Impact of First Love’s Spark
The poems of Where the Stars First Saw Us dwell in the mystery of beginnings. They reveal that love is not always something we plan or earn—it often arrives without warning, instinctual and undeniable. This section illustrates how a single look can alter the course of a life, how attraction rises like music that cannot be silenced, and how memory clings to the moments the world itself may not permit to continue.
Every poem here speaks to the power of first encounters. Crescendo evokes the rising pulse of desire, as if intimacy itself is a piece of music nearing its climax. The Gravity of Her Gaze reminds us that a single glance can swallow us whole, turning certainty into doubt and doubt into wonder. A Perfect Storm captures the chaos of forbidden attraction, while Where Time Folds reminds us that with the right person, hours feel like seconds and seconds can echo for eternity.
These are not stories of tidy romance; they are records of instinct—love that bypasses reason and insists on being felt. They show us that what begins suddenly often lingers the longest. Attraction may not always find resolution, yet the emotions born in those first sparks can endure across years, memories, even lifetimes.
In the end, this section affirms that every great love story begins somewhere—often in silence, often in the unexplainable moment when one soul recognizes another. Whether or not that recognition ever becomes a lasting bond, it shapes us. It teaches us what our hearts are capable of, what risks we’re willing to take, and how deeply we can feel.
Where the Stars First Saw Us captures that timeless beginning—the moment when love first makes itself known and nothing is ever quite the same again.