I don't know what to call it—
there’s no labels on our jars
just the taste of feeling safe
when the world forgets
to be kind—
in silence
in tears
in the act of terrible singing
and to let each other be
without fixing—
like two cool cats
napping on opposite windowsills—
both catching light
without stealing it.

I don't ask
why you need to be quiet
whether happy or sad—
and you don't ask
why I stay up to see the sunrise
or why I stay up late
talking to the moon.

We don’t measure what this is—
we just make room
for each other's storms
place our phones on the counter
and mean it
when we take time
for each other.

You know
when I need a loud no.
I know when you need
a soft it's okay
and I never follow you
into storms
you choose to weather alone.

I never knock too loudly—
just wait
on the porch of your quiet
hands in my pockets
not asking you to hurry.

This—whatever it is—
feels like a home.