I used to think
everything good
had to happen quickly.
Love at first sight.
A kiss before the night was over.
A life figured out
before anyone noticed
I was making it up.
I wanted certainty
before there was time
to become certain.
Wanted to know
what we were
while we were still learning
how the other person breathed.
Now I think
there is something tender
about not knowing yet.
About the first text
you read twice
before answering.
The small pause
before someone reaches for you.
A hand resting
somewhere innocent
until it isn’t.
The breath between kisses
when neither of you
is trying to rush
toward the next thing.
Even sex
doesn’t have to be
a race toward anything.
There are whole worlds
inside the breaks.
The looking.
The laughing.
The shifting closer.
The stopping
just to feel
what is already happening.
You do not have to devour
every beautiful thing
the moment it appears.
You can let someone
become familiar slowly.
Learn their stories
one at a time.
Let desire build
without demanding
it prove itself.
Let love arrive
in increments—
a text,
a touch,
a night you don’t want to end,
a morning you don’t need
to name.
There is no prize
for getting there first.
No punishment
for taking the long way.
We have spent enough of our lives
trying to become older
before we were ready.
Maybe now
we get to linger.
In the breaths.
In the breaks.
In the almost.
Maybe this time
we do not rush
to find out
where it goes.
Maybe we just notice
how good it feels
to be here.
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