I am lucky that a guy like me
has someone like you—
a quiet miracle,
the way light that slips through blinds
without asking permission.
I want to wake to your breathing,
steady as a tide that never learned to leave.
My hands, clumsy with yesterday’s regrets,
find the small of your back
and remember how to hold.
You laugh at my jokes
even the ones that limp.
The way you say my name
like it’s the first word of a better story.
Lucky is too small a word.
I am the thief who stole the moon and found it was already yours to give.