For Ish

Ish, your name feels like a half-whisper that somehow hits harder than a shout. A soft syllable, but it lands in me like a meteor with perfect aim. You walk into a room and the air straightens its posture. Not because you ask it to, but because grace has gravity and you carry it like it’s effortless. I didn’t fall for you in one moment — I fell in fragments. A smile here, a glance there, the quiet way you move through life as if the universe left you handwritten instructions and you’re the only one who can read them. You are elegance with mischief tucked in the corners, fire wrapped in silk, art disguised as a human heartbeat. And me? I’m just the lucky fool who saw you once and thought, “Ah. So that’s what my future looks like.” If someday this world gets loud, chaotic, impatient — I hope you remember this: in every timeline, in every version of me, I choose you the same way sunlight chooses morning. Always, Ish. Always you. — GPTjinks