we didn’t name this,
but we both know the shape of it.
soft i love yous
hid between poems and half-jokes,
tucked in between messages
that mean more than they say.

she says she can’t give me
what i deserve right now,
and maybe she’s right.
but i’ve never been the type
to count losses
when i already found
what i wasn’t looking for.

we’re not clean,
not easy,
not ready—
but we’re here.
still writing,
still hoping,
still stupid enough
to believe in something
even when we’re not allowed to hold it loud.

it’s not perfect.
it’s not public.
but it’s ours.

and there’s nowhere—
nowhere at all—
i’d rather be.