Right Here Is Enough

I don’t want forever,

I want near.

Your breath against mine,

your name caught in the quiet

between heartbeats.

I want your arms

like a place I never had,

a shelter that doesn’t ask questions,

a moment that doesn’t demand tomorrow.

We both know what this is.

A line already crossed,

a future already fractured,

a story that forgets how to end well.

But when you pull me closer,

none of that exists.

There is no wrong,

no consequence,

no distant unraveling,

just skin and silence

and the dangerous comfort of being held.

In your arms,

everything feels complete,

like the world finally stops asking for more

than I have to give.

And maybe that’s the problem.

Because outside of this

we are mismatched pieces,

forced edges,

a truth we keep avoiding

until it presses too hard to ignore.

I know this won’t last.

I know we are building something

that time will take apart.

But knowing

and feeling

have never been the same thing.

So I stay,

just a little longer,

just one more moment

pretending this is enough

to quiet the part of me

that knows

it never will be.