The Way

I start with the feeling of your hand in mine,

a warmth that settles deeper than skin,

quiet but certain,

as if the world softened its edges

to make room for us.

Your smile pulls the moment closer,

tilting everything just slightly,

enough for my heartbeat

to stumble in that sweet, familiar way

it only does when you’re near.

I don’t pretend to know

how far this will go;

love never arrives with instructions.

It shows up in small clues,

a laugh that lingers,

a shared breath,

the accidental brush of your arm

that feels anything but accidental.

Then something opens inside me,

a turning I didn’t expect,

like discovering a door

I didn’t realize was unlocked.

Suddenly, I’m aware

that I’m not only falling,

I’m choosing.

And you’re choosing too.

I can feel it in the way

your gaze holds steady,

in the hush before you speak,

in the gentle pull of connection

that keeps drawing us forward.

So here we stand,

at the front edge of something real,

something tender and unnamed,

yet certain all the same.

Whatever path unfolds from here,

I know this much,

some beginnings feel less like starting over

and more like finding the place

you were always meant to arrive in.