My soul still leans toward you

 My soul still leans toward you…

even after all this time.

Like a flower turning toward sunlight without thinking,
some part of me still reaches for you automatically.

In quiet rooms.
In difficult moments.
In the soft ache that appears when something reminds me of your love.

You became my safe place so completely
that even now,
my heart still tilts in your direction.

Sometimes it happens in the smallest ways.

I still save space beside me on the couch.
Still glance toward the passenger seat during long drives.
Still whisper your name into empty rooms when life feels too heavy.

And for a moment,
it almost feels like you’re listening.

Maybe you are.

Because grief doesn’t just come from losing someone.

It comes from having your soul intertwined with another soul so deeply
that separation never fully makes sense afterward.

You were comfort during storms I never spoke about out loud.
You were warmth during lonely seasons nobody else saw.
And somehow,
without words,
you carried parts of me that were hurting.

So of course my soul still leans toward you.

Love that pure doesn’t simply stop because the body is gone.

It lingers.
It pulls gently.
It keeps reaching across impossible distances.

And sometimes late at night,
when the world becomes quiet enough,
I swear I can still feel your presence leaning back toward me too.

Like somewhere beyond the Rainbow Bridge,
your spirit still knows the way home to my heart.