To be an adult, and still have the privilege to play.
To be goofy and vulnerable—
the avoidant who somehow understands the discernible.
An unspoken familiarity that’s unknown,
a life that shouldn’t be lived alone.
The alignment of the universe;
the destruction—
Or, maybe just maybe, it’s a resurrection.
A guilty pleasure.
But why does choosing happy come with guilt?
Why does joy require a life so carefully measured?
Giggles, sheepish blushing,
teasing and taunting—
And the, uh, gushing.
Every synonym, every metaphor, and the space between the lines.
The words unsaid in the stanzas of rhymes.
Banter.
Beguiling.
Beautiful.
Bewildering.
The averages insist this is rare—
an anomaly.
Home.
Where I want to be.
A gift, a constellation etched into the skies
of our biology.
Distances may stretch,
but you can still connect the dots from afar.
Align with me.
What if we accepted the present, and unwrapped it?
Lived in a moment that’s precious,
no pressure,
no expectations—
just rapture.
Joy born from thoughtfulness,
from care,
from something offered that isn’t monetary—
it’s passion. It’s bare.
Love shouldn’t be daunting.
I wish for us to never to be left wanting.
I want your silence and your burdens.
Your purity, your sureness,
and even your insecurities.
I’ll harbor your hurt,
and I know you’ll harbor mine.
Struggling, but striving.
I’m yours, and you’re mine.
To chase the calmness.
To choose a different path—
a choice toward a future,
not the burial of it
in the past.
So many choices to make,
a reckoning to meet.
Fingers crossed
that the many paths we take, land us on our feet.
The ramblings of a romantic.
