When Your Gaze

I start with the way you look at me,

steady, unhurried,

as if the world could crumble behind us

and you’d still hold your focus

right where I stand.

There’s something grounding in it,

something that reaches deeper

than I ever meant to wander.

Your eyes trace the truth of me,

the parts I don’t show easily,

the soft corners I pretend don’t exist.

And in that quiet pull,

I feel myself lean,

not physically,

but in the way a heart leans

when it realizes it’s no longer alone.

A breath,

a heartbeat,

a small spark that changes everything.

It’s not simply attraction

or the charming gravity you carry.

It’s the moment I understand

why the world falls away

whenever you meet my gaze.

With you, attention becomes devotion,

not demanded,

not forced,

just naturally offered,

like sunlight finding the same window each morning

without ever needing to be taught.

So stay with me like this,

in this tender, un-rushed orbit,

where your eyes speak

what our hands haven’t found the courage to say,

that whatever happens next,

we’re already moving toward it

together.