This book is built from a fracture in time. What you'll find between its pages is not simply love—it is Forever itself: unyielding, unrelenting, and beautifully impossible. Nate writes not to preserve a person, but to preserve the ache of infinity. When Forever slips beyond reach, the only answer is to make it real in verse. In these poems, Forever isn't a destination—it's the haunting pull between what was and what always will be. It's the echo that returns with new shape, new sorrow, new grace. It's not perfection-it's persistence. A force that reshapes you, lingers in silence, and seeps into everything unspoken. Each line is an offering to the gods of what-could-have-been. A slow orbit around memory, desire, failure, and yearning. This is love as gravity. Time as ruin. Forever as a wound that doesn't close—and a pulse that never dies. To write of Forever is to disobey ending. And this book is pure defiance.
