I used to make plans
like a man walking alone,
always forward,
never quite arriving.
But then
you happened—
not like thunder,
but like a slow sunrise
I almost missed
by looking elsewhere.

Now,
everything includes you.
The quiet morning coffee,
the late-night ache in my chest,
the dreams I no longer tell myself
to keep small.

You’re there
in the music I hum
without thinking,
in the space beside me
that only feels like home
when you fill it.

Even the hard days—
they soften
because I know
your voice will meet me there,
somewhere in the middle,
calling me back.

So if I say life,
know I mean you too.
Every breath I take
was made
to be taken
with you in it.