loving you
has always felt like muscle memory.
like something my body
already knew how to do.

some mornings,
i find you in the kitchen,
barefoot,
your hair falling soft down your back
that streak of silver catching light
like it has a story of its own.

your lips move
the way i imagine
god meant lips to move,
and you smile
like you know
something about peace
that no one else does.

you don’t try to be beautiful.
you just are
in the way your eyes crinkle
when you laugh,
in the way you tuck your hair
behind your ear
without thinking twice.

some days,
i watch you move through the room
like it was built
to hold you gently,
and i swear
my chest remembers how to beat
because you’re near.

i’m sorry,
but loving you
is still so easy.