almost everyone had left
by the time the clock
struck midnight.

you kissed me
at the top of the stairs,
then, after getting more wine,
announced to the room,
i’m staying here,
by the way.

my housemate
offered you blankets —
bless him,
so unaware.

you said
you’d take over my bed,
and i could sleep
wherever i wanted.

that was the night
i realised
i was madly in love.
i knew it may hurt,
but i couldn’t refuse
signing up.

we went through
three bottles of wine,
spent the evening
in the embrace of
soft conversations
on table thirteen.
it was four o’clock.
sun nowhere near.

you moved closer,
leaned in,
and i froze.
i couldn’t breathe.

i had no idea
what you were doing.

i was locked in your eyes
until you broke the moment,
laughing —
you’re so easy to ******.
i felt something in me split.

you’re not stupid.
i know you knew
that my heart
this year has been
only beating for you.

until you lifted me up
as our lips brushed,
for the first time in months —
and the night blurred
in the back of a car,
all glass and gold streetlight.

the heat of your laptop
on my thigh,
netflix playing rick and morty —
at first, we watched,
then it faded into background.

i fell asleep
in your clothes,
your scent
settled into my skin
as you held me close.

i don’t want us
to be anything.
but sometimes i wonder
if i crossed your mind
the way you drift through mine.

why else would you give me
your plushie crocodile —
just in case
i miss you
while you’re away?

we’ve been spending
so much time together.
you keep finding ways
back into my head.

we’re not going to be a thing.
you told me.
i told you.
we shouldn’t work.

but baby —
we do.

and then it hit me —
you’re the first person
i’ve met
who would carry
all of my parts.
gently.
even the cracked ones.
especially.

i introduced you to them,
at the gig.

he looked at me,
eyes wide,
a little sceptic.

“husband?” he asked.

what.

did my mind trip?
“housemate. housemate!”
that’s what i said.
but maybe my heart
decided to have
its own moment.

your wife laughed —
“i thought you said husband, too.”
and there i was,
blushing through
the awkward ha-ha,
wishing for something
to sink into.

i spend too much time
beating myself up.
i drift between careful
and you only live once.

my life is a gallery
of abstract mistakes.
i wouldn’t mind you in it.
you come with a nice frame.

the things i could tell you—
they’re almost criminal.
but i only find your lips,
soft with ache for me,
in the quiet dark of dreams.
i carry you
like a wound that scabs
but never bleeds.

and if you were here,
really here,
i think i’d take the risk.
let my life fold in half,
see if you’d catch me
as i come apart
under your touch.

but i know you wouldn’t.
so i’ll hold onto
this fantasy for now,
praying that your flickers
eventually burn out.

in between downward dogs,
my phone buzzes —
again.
and again.

for fifteen whole minutes,
i leave you unread.

you’re drunk, smitten,
with someone i know,
someone you spotted
at a gig.

you send a live-feed
of your spiralling heart,
ask what to say,
if the moment does come.

i tell you to try.
say hi for me.
talk about music,
the crowd, the energy,
the way the incandescence,
blurry but kind,
makes them look soft
in that lavender light.

and you do.
of course you do.
you take a leap of faith,
while i sit here
in silence,
finding a hundred ways
to rehearse what my heart would
but my mouth will never say.

he always asked for permission.
not like a formality —
not the way someone asks
after they’ve already decided.
but like he meant it.
like my no
wouldn’t make him flinch.

and every time,
i said yes.
and felt his hands
move like they’d just been
gifted a map —
not to conquer,
but to understand.

even when his fingers slipped
under the hem of my shirt,
found the small of my back —
he paused.
and gave me a chance
to say no. it’s enough.

even when his hand
brushed against my bra strap,
barely there —
he whispered sorry,
as if the air between us
deserved an apology.

i didn’t ask,
if i could touch you
further up.

and that —
that’s what i remember.

not the way he kissed me.
not the taste of that night.
but the way his respect
intoxicated my mind.

looking back,
i think that was the moment
he opened me up,
let my feelings spill,
whilst keeping his own still.
and god.
i loved him for that.