“Without Saying It”

“things that don’t need words”

we didn’t meet in a movie

we met in aisle 3,

next to the cans of chickpeas

and a baby screaming into

the existential void.

your headphones were

too pink to be ironic,

mine were holding on

with the help of an airline adapter

and a prayer.

i smiled.

you nodded.

we kept it.

—

in your kitchen,

the air stuck to our skin

like childhood summers

and unresolved dreams.

you turned the stove dial like it was a radio knob,

looking for a song that might save us.

i asked if you believed in fate,

but only with my elbow

grazing yours,

and you answered by dropping

a clove of garlic

on the floor and laughing.

—

closets hold more

than clothes.

they hold

performance anxiety,

sweaters that lie about who we used to be,

and sometimes—

apologies disguised as kisses.

i kissed you anyway.

—

most of our talking

happened in glances,

in shared earbuds,

in brushing crumbs

off each other’s chests

after a midnight snack turned

into a full-on therapy session.

you always listened better

when i didn’t speak.

i think you heard the parts

i was afraid to say.

—

make a wish,

you whispered,

an eyelash on my cheek.

i wished for this—

whatever this is.

messy,

quiet,

real.

you smirked.

like maybe you knew.

—

the door stuck again,

like it was trying to keep us

from leaving too soon.

you bumped it with your hip

and fell into our hallway

like a poem missing its last line.

god, i loved you then.

in socks that didn’t match.

in laughter that echoed

off dirty dishes.

we didn’t have a lot—

but everything

somehow

fit.

even when it didn’t.

—

the magic of it all

was never in the grand gestures.

it was in

how we put away groceries

like we were rebuilding a world.

how the silence said more

than the noise ever could.

how love

found a way

to speak

without words.