All That I Am

All that I am
began to change
the moment you spoke to me
like I was someone worth knowing--
not a passing moment,
not an almost,
but a person
with a pulse that mattered.

You saw me with a gentleness
I didn’t know I could bear,
and somehow I didn’t break.

Somehow I opened--
slowly, cautiously--
and you waited,
patient as sunrise,
steady as breath.

With you,
love is not a performance
or a test I’m destined to fail.
It’s a place--
warm, lived-in,
full of the small comforts
that make a life feel
like it’s finally beginning.

You’ve taken the parts of me
that were scattered,
shaken loose by grief and years,
and held them
without judgment,
without fear.

You remind me
that tenderness is not a weakness
and longing is not a wound.
You make my softness feel
like a strength.

Everything I am becoming
is traced with your presence--
your voice in the late hours,
your laughter I carry like a lucky charm,
your love unspooling the old knots
one by one
until I breathe easier.

All that I am
is more
because you are here.
And all that I will be
is already leaning toward you--
like a body learning
the shape of home.