I don’t need a sign.
You’re the moment I stopped asking for one.
You feel like something I didn’t know I was waiting for
until you arrived.
Quiet, certain,
like you’ve always belonged here.
With you, time doesn’t feel borrowed.
It stretches.
Like we’ve lived a hundred lives
just to stand here in this one,
facing each other,
finally knowing
what it means to stay.
I don’t believe in accidents anymore.
Not when you hold me
like you were made for it.
Not when I hear your voice
and it settles every question I used to carry.
If this is just one life,
I’ll spend it choosing you.
If we get another,
I hope we find each other again.
And again.
And again.
