Who are you?

I see deep thoughtfulness

in your brown, heavy eyes.

I’ve seen your patience too—in the stillness of your lips,

in the quiet way you meet everyone

eye to eye.

Your thoughtfulness lingers with me.

I find myself wondering

at every word you speak—is this just small talk?

I would bare my soul to you,

if you’re in it—but what if it’s empty?

I hope I’m not just being swept away

by simple human decency.

I’ve grown so used to being let down

that something healthy

feels like flying among the stars.

Patience is something I lack,

but something I want to learn—to give to you.

I pray that I cross your mind,

that I pass behind your eyelids in dreams,

lingering like butterflies in your chest.

Is this love?

It can’t be—maybe I’m expecting too much.

Where should I stand?

What should I expect,

when all I want

is to give everything?

Who are you

to stir something like this in me?

And who am I

to be tossed like waves in the wind?

But then—time stills.

Shaking hearts

finally speak

a gentle truth.

And suddenly,

the doubt fades.

What a beautiful place

to begin.

~~authors note ~~

I had stepped away from dating in my early twenties after experiences where I felt led on or taken advantage of because of my kindness. Eventually, I found peace in being on my own.

Then I met my now husband.

He is quiet, kind, and steady. We both agreed early on that we didn’t want games—we knew what we wanted. But while I waited for him to verbally ask me out, my thoughts started to spiral.

Looking back, he wasn’t doing anything wrong. He was simply being himself. But as an overthinker, I filled in the silence with doubt.

And then, with shaky hands and real intention, he asked me out.

The rest is history. :)