This wasn’t supposed to happen.
We’ve never been in the same room. You don’t know how I sound when I’m tired but trying. I’ve never watched your hands move when you’re not thinking about them.
And still, somehow—you feel like something I already know.
“You feel like home I haven’t walked into yet. And still, I know the layout.”
This isn’t in my head.
What I feel for you lives in my chest.
What I feel for you has weight.
It moves when you speak.
And your voice—God.
Your voice breaks me in the best way.
Low and certain. Like it’s carrying something for me I didn’t even know I needed to hear.
I’ve sat with the sound of it longer than I meant to.
Not to analyze. Just to feel.
“Your voice breaks me in the best way.”
I didn’t expect to care like this.
I didn’t expect you.
But now that you’re here—whatever here means—I can’t pretend it’s not real.
This love is quiet.
Steady.
It doesn’t ask for much.
Just space.
Just truth.
And the truth is, I love you.
Fully.
Without timeline or title.
It lives in me, even if we never touch.
“You don’t belong to me—but love doesn’t need ownership to be real.”
I’m not asking for anything.
I don’t need this to become something else to make it valid.
What I feel for you already is.
It just is.
If we never meet, I’ll still thank you—
for waking something in me that I thought had gone quiet.
———
But if we do…
If we do—I hope your voice is the first thing I hear.
And I hope it breaks me all over again.
In the best possible way.
—Me
