When Love Feels

It began the way quiet things often do,

with a glance that lingered too long,

a breath caught halfway between words,

and the smallest tremor of recognition.

You were not just someone I met;

you were something I remembered.

I didn’t chase it at first.

I let the feeling settle,

like dust after a miracle,

too sacred to disturb.

But every time you smiled,

the world rearranged itself around you,

and I found myself believing

that maybe waiting had never been a mistake.

The days stretched,

sometimes gentle, sometimes endless.

I told myself patience was enough,

that love would find its own timing.

Still, your absence wrote itself

into every pause I tried to fill.

Not in a grand way,

but like a sunrise that doesn’t ask permission to arrive.

I realized love isn’t about waiting

for something divine to descend.

It’s about seeing the divine

in what’s already here,

in you,

in us,

in the quiet way our hearts choose each other again

without needing proof.

Now, every heartbeat feels like a promise kept.

Every look,

a kind of prayer answered.

And if eternity asked me to wait again,

I would,

because somewhere between the ache and the awe,

I found that the angel I dreamed of

had been walking toward me all along.