If I had just one more day...
I'd tell you I loved you.
I'd tell you I need you.
I'd tell you that you were the best thing that ever happened to me.

If I had just one more day...
I'd give you that one last hug.
I'd give you a kiss goodbye.
I'd give you my world.

If I had just one more day...
I'd show you how much I really loved you.
I'd show you why I loved you.
I'd show you why I NEED you.

If I had just one more day,
it would be okay for you to go away.

My life is so lost without you here.
Please come back, for just one more day...

The sixteen-year-old dishwasher at work told me she checks the schedule-hoping we’ll share the same shifts. She said she missed me when I took a day off.

A new hire said I have a “wholesome vibe,” like it was the kindest thing he could offer.

A new friend and I sat in his new room, talking about how hard it is to make friends as adults-how rare it is when it feels this easy.

My best friend, miles away, messages to say she got the postcard I sent. She says she loves me.

The one I’m dating tells me I can make mistakes without being a mistake.

A stranger-turned-friend listed all the things she liked about me-minutes after we met. I didn’t know what to say. I smile for hours.

My six-year-old cousins video call me, bursting with stories about their day with my parents. They wave a pride flag on a picnic blanket in the backyard, proud of their brave big cousin. They correct anyone who calls me by my deadname like it’s the easiest truth in the world.

My mom checks in.
She knows it’s been a heavy week.

My dad spends his free time under the hood of my car, my mom hands me her keys so I don’t have to worry.

I visit an old friend's memorial, tell him everything I wish I could have said in person. The wind listens. I think he does, too.

My best friend and I scream old songs in the car, drive to a park by the water, swing until we’re dizzy and aching, and laugh because we’re not kids anymore-but we still want to feel like it.

Another friend is moving out on his own. He asks me to help him make the space feel like home. I say yes, of course. It's an honor.

A best friend and I trade 'I miss yous' like warm hugs un words.

I buy concert tickets for another best friend. It’s one of my favorite artists. We’ll sing ourselves hoarse.

I text my childhood best friend: Happy Pride. Two words that carry years.

I go to a Pride party with my parents and friends. I feel the weight of belonging and it is light.

I plan to trade plants with a girl from work. Roots change hands. Something grows.

And for a moment-no, longer than a moment-I realize:I am overflowing with love.

As I cracked my farm-fresh
Egg into the hot, hubbling, bubbling
water this morn,
Swirled it around enough
So that egg whites formed,
A soft, safe sack, encasing space
It became poached.

Is that what you've done to me?

Kept me safe and poached me?!

Is that not the very act of
L O V E…

I don't even know what to say,
Being this happy,
feels like a fever dream,
like I could do anything.

I feel like I deserve to live,
to do things,
to even have fun.

You don't know what you've done,
just by being in my life.
You've done more than make me feel human.
You make me feel relaxed,
beautiful,
and this feeling,
of heavenly happiness.
I never want it to go away.

She probably had a smile, indeed, I unzipped her body bag.
Yet, she never once smiled alive.
However, she loved saying, “I thought about smiling; maybe someday?”

I won’t claim space  
you haven't softly opened,  
but in the gentle breath  
between silence and sound,  
I remain

Not as a shadow lingering  
nor a ghost from yesterday,  
but as someone who always saw you,  
clearly, tenderly,  
even when your heart feared  
what it meant to be truly known.

I know your quiet battles,  
the way you fear losing control,  
how it aches to reveal yourself,  
to step from shadow into light,  
uncertain if anyone could truly hold  
the weight and wonder of your soul.

I've seen you craft careful armor,  
watched you dance on edges of yourself  
longing to be witnessed,  
yet afraid the world  
might look too deeply,  
or not closely enough.

But I saw.

I saw the trembling courage  
behind every hesitant smile,  
the hidden poetry you wrote  
with whispered breaths,  
the strength in softness  
you thought went unnoticed.

I witnessed your silent bravery
the quiet way you loved,  
the gentle way you tried,  
the powerful beauty  
in simply showing up,  
even when you felt unseen.