In the middle of the night, I hear your voice.
And I’m not sure if these words are in my head, or a dream.
But after an age I roll over, press my lips to yours, and say it back to you.
And these words shouldn’t be too big of a deal, but it takes us another month to acknowledge it again, aloud.
Maybe we didn’t have to.
Maybe it’s the way your arm falls around my waist in the morning when you don’t want to wake up.
Maybe it’s in the way you pull me to you before we drift off to sleep.
It’s not love. Not yet, quite possibly not ever.
But there is something in the way you smile at me
That makes me smile back.
And I’m trying not to hope, to give a mile when you give an inch.
I’m being careful, and I think you are too.
But we can try these new things together.
With your lips at my ear I feel beautiful, strong, and brave.
And I want to keep feeling that way.