☽

i saw it and my heart glowed
a bit of moonlight you can wear everyday
cool and gentle as a late summer evening
it takes me back to a time when i was free

my thoughts keep returning to
how it would feel, held close to my heart
when it folds and when it moves
a quiet hush against my skin

a pale ribbon of comfort
being held by something gentle
someday i'll drape it over my shoulders
and maybe it will be my only layer

thinking of you in moonlight
not a change to make
but someone i love
someone i want to keep safe

no sudden doors flung open
nothing sharp or cold
only small truths
in warm hands

i want us like two at a cabin table
tea steaming between us
a love deep and enduring
even when the weather turns

and if the night grows loud
i'll be steady for you
and still tender
i choose you, i hold you
we can make a home that can hold it all

i woke with a start
thinking of what could be

the moon poured silver
across the sheets
and the room softened

a story,
stitched carefully
in the dark

there is a place for me
in all of it

i wake and he is there,
as vigilant as a child on christmas,
watching the bed for movement
the way you watch the sky for dawn.

then the moment i sit up
he becomes joy,
soft paws, soft insistence,
a friend who cannot wait.

it makes me want to be worthy
of that kind of trust.

sometimes beauty feels like weather.
it comes in slowly,
then suddenly the whole world is different.

a river of borrowed light
flowers, moon, silk, small mercies,
and i let it wash me clean
of the old fight.

the fire in me stays gentle,
like candlelight that refuses to go out.

some rivers are roads
some rivers flow like a song
it is only water
transformed by the beds it borrows

there is a quiet under the trees
that has nothing to do with silence.
it's the sound of being held
by something older than language.

some days i don't look like her.
some days i can only remember her.
and that is still devotion.

i will be her
the way spring becomes inevitable.
not by force,
but by steady warmth.
by choosing truth over shame,
softness over quitting,
and beauty not as a bargain,
but as something i'm allowed to live in.

the kind of closeness
that never asks for proof

tea steeping in the same pot
a sweater on my shoulders
like it has always belonged there

i brush your hair
slow, patient
as if the world is not allowed to rush us

we don't have to name it
to keep it

a moth circles the porch light
with such devotion —
i wonder if it knows
something i've forgotten.

there's a calmness to it,
the way i can already feel
the drape of a sleeve,
the hush of a knit,
the steady sweetness of being myself.

and then the thrill,
like sunlight catching a glass
and the whole room goes bright.

i'll be patient with your blooming.
i'll love you like spring loves the ground,
slowly,

not because you're fragile,
but because you deserve
a place to land.

the last leaves fall
like confessions
whispered to no one
and everyone

i woke up gently to see an old friend
it was a rare night for her
like a sacred birthday
she donned a veil of hushed scarlet
and became more beautiful when she blushed