i find these stairs
beside the walls of a home
i built a little too strong
and i take one foot beside another
trying not to rush the way forward
letting each step become
whatever it is meant to become
i caress this
for what it gives me in the moment
without asking it to become more
because we make movement beside walls
beside what could be
and what could never quite happen
and sometimes the space between those things
is where we learn how to stay
i take this
for what it is
and not for what we both
might like it to become
because wanting can build entire rooms
before we ever know
if we are meant to live inside them
and i have lived too long
inside places i created alone
i etch a name
with sticks in the dirt
and i break these stones
with a song i know how to sing
with a swift breath of air
like two things interlocking slowly
into something neither of us
can quite say out loud
but somehow still knows
when it is standing there
and i know you feel this
you can taste this
like a tongue against a neck
like a song inside a bird
like a beat finding the exact moment
before the music decides to change
and i leave us there
just long enough
to feel what it could mean
we take two
as in two feet
to move together
beside the greenery
beside the walking
beside all of this talking
where our steps begin to sound the same
without either of us trying
to follow the other
and maybe that is what i like
the way movement can become shared
without ever being asked to
the wind blows
and i speak gently
because i know if i don’t
the walls might cave in
and maybe some things only stay standing
when we do not push against them
when we let the silence sit
where it wants to
and let the words arrive
when they are ready
i stand here
without a guard
without the armor
i used to believe
i needed around me
because i know
i do not need one
if we talk slowly and completely
if we leave enough room between the words
for honesty to sit
without being afraid
of what it might say
and i think about these walls
how long i spent building them
how carefully i placed each stone
thinking protection meant strength
when maybe strength was always
knowing which parts of myself
could stay open
and maybe this is how
a home becomes softer
not by tearing down every wall
not by leaving every door unlocked
but by knowing someone can stand outside
without trying to break their way in
and still
you find me here
one hand against the door
one foot already moving
wondering if this is what it feels like
to let something become real
without deciding what it has to be
because maybe the safest thing
is not always staying inside
maybe sometimes
it is opening the door slowly
and trusting
whoever stands there
to enter gently