In the Rooms of the Heart

By: Luca Seraphine

There’s a place where the sun spills sideways,
and the walls hum with a melody only we know.
It’s a quiet corner, where whispers grow wings,
and the air tastes like the first bite of something forbidden.

In this place, my skin is woven from moonlight,
and I wear the night like a lover’s kiss.
Here, we are not seen—we are felt,
a pulse in the dark, a rhythm that moves through bones.

We gather in rooms built from stories,
where each word is a step on a stairway to the stars.
In the stillness, there’s a heartbeat,
steady and fierce, echoing through us all.

This is where we find each other,
not in the noise of the world,
but in the spaces where silence speaks louder.
In the flicker of a candle, in the sweep of a hand,
we know we are here, we are alive.

Our laughter curls like smoke,
rising to fill the spaces above,
and we dance not to music, but to the sound
of our own breath, in and out,
a quiet rebellion, a gentle storm.

This is not a place of grand gestures,
but of small, tender revolutions—
a hand held too long, a gaze that lingers.
In the corners of our eyes, we build kingdoms
from the things we thought we had to hide.

Here, we are not queens or kings,
but something softer, something more.
We are the light that slips through cracks,
the warmth that spreads in the dark,
the love that blooms in silence.

In these rooms of the heart,
we are everything we’ve ever been,
and all that we’ve yet to become.
This is where we live, where we love,
where we find ourselves again and again.

Luca is a nonbinary writer based in Berlin, Germany. When they’re not writing, Luca can be found exploring second-hand bookstores, chatting with strangers, or trying to brew the perfect cup of tea.