Only You
You move,
and something in me realigns —
like the tide remembering
what it was made for.
You are both stillness and fever,
the breath I lose between
the pulse and the echo.
When you laugh,
light burns through fog —
a wound made radiant.
Without you,
the world keeps spinning,
but it has no center,
only the hush of what’s missing.
Your touch: salt and sweetness —
a calm that trembles.
Every promise you never spoke
still anchors me.
In your arms,
time folds.
I forget what I was
before you named me with silence.
You —
my clarity,
my ruin,
the reason the night still hums.
