Beneath the Glow

You start with a look,

not grand, not rehearsed,

just a flicker

like something old waking inside you,

and I answer before thinking,

as if my chest knew the reply

before my lips caught up.

The air thickens with possibility.

Every pause grows electric.

It’s not the fireworks,

not the spectacle,

but the steady pulse between us

that dares to stay.

Then,

something shifts.

The ordinary dissolves,

and suddenly we are both untethered,

rising into a moment too wide for language.

Time, usually so heavy,

sways loose like fabric in the wind.

I see you differently now,

not just the shape of your face,

but the gravity in your silence,

the courage tucked behind your laughter,

the ache that taught you tenderness.

And I know,

even if the world turns brittle,

even if tomorrow steals the shine,

tonight I stand inside a truth

too alive to be denied:

to love you is to remember myself

in a brighter tongue,

to keep believing

that what feels impossible

might already be ours.