the kind of love.

i used to fall in love

with love itself 

the kind that walked hand in hand

down quiet streets,

soft smiles, wrinkled eyes

full of stories and still,

still so much light.

i’d see old couples

and dream of forever,

wondering where love hides

when the world feels so loud.

i thought maybe it was tucked

in letters, in songs,

in someone almost right.

but love didn’t come

with fireworks or grand arrivals.

it came gently.

it came as him.

he didn’t just show up,

he reminded me

that maybe i’d been looking

everywhere but home.

he fixes my problems

without making a fuss,

quietly stepping in

when things get tough.

he doesn’t need praises 

just does the small things

that help me breathe easier.

he tries, every day,

to be a better version of himself,

not for anyone else,

but for me because he cares.

he listens.

really listens.

the kind of listening

that makes me feel safe,

even when my words fall short.

no judgment, just understanding.

his love doesn’t rush or demand.

it simply is steady, soft, and sure.

he was there all along

not late, not early,

just… right on time.

like god whispered,

“this is who i made for you”

and now,

when i look at the photo i took

of that old couple,

i don’t just see strangers.

i see a promise,

a glimpse of us

years from now 

his hand still in mine,

my heart still choosing him

in every season.

we’re not a picture yet,

not a forever written in full

but we’ve begun the story.

and i can’t wait

to grow old with him

and be the couple

someone else falls in love with

from across the street.

-angelica dsouza