one breath
held between
her chest and mine,
not merely air,
but everything
we were afraid to say.
It carried the weight
of hesitation,
of wanting,
of the fragile second
before surrender.
Neither of us released it.
As long as that breath remained,
the moment remained
✝️ Retired account. I found Christ. Repent and turn away from sin. Accept the free gift of salvation through Jesus Christ. He is the way, the truth, and the life. John 14:6 🙏
The type of connection that lasts more than one night.
More Than One Night
Morning finds the light still there,
not fleeing with the last of dark.
A cup left cooling on the stair,
a key that learns another lock.
It is the second look, the third,
the text that isn’t just for heat.
It is the ordinary word
that somehow makes the day complete.
Not the spark that spends itself
in one bright, borrowed hour—
but the slow work of keeping self
and still remaining two, not fewer.
Hands that stay when talk grows thin,
the choice repeated, unadorned:
to let another morning in
and not pretend the night was borrowed.
Some connections end at dawn.
This one keeps the door ajar—
not because the dark is gone,
but because you both still are.