For you whom I dreamt

For the one I met in sleep, and miss while awake

I don’t know your name,
or where you came from
just that your hands felt like rest
and your breath, like home.

You weren’t made of stardust,
not carved from marble
you had soft eyes, work-worn fingers,
and a laugh that didn’t try too hard.

You didn’t promise me forever,
you just brought dinner home.

You weren’t the tallest in the room,
but I still stood behind you, proud.

I remember how the nights felt
quiet, and not lonely.

You smelled of sweat and sun and safety,
and your shoulder was mine
when the day grew heavy.

I told you, softly, that I was carrying
something small and bright
and you didn’t flinch.

You placed your hand on me,

and stayed.

You stayed.

And somehow that meant more

than all the fireworks love ever promised me.

If I ever see you again

in a kitchen, on a porch,

or just in that sleepy corner of my mind

I’ll smile like I know you.

Because I do.

You were never just a dream.

You were the feeling

I’ve been waiting for

my whole life.