The way it moves

There’s something calm in the way this feels,

like nothing’s pulling too hard.

No need for promises spoken out loud,

just standing where we are.

The air feels different when you’re near,

like time decided to slow.

I don’t ask why, I don’t resist it—

I just let it go.

I’ve learned that what’s real

doesn’t ask to be chased.

It stays without effort,

it finds its place.

I like the way it moves between us,

easy, unspoken, sure.

Like two rhythms finding each other

without trying to be more.

And when you look at me,

nothing feels unclear—

I don’t need to explain it,

I just know it’s here.

There’s comfort in how you see me,

not fixing, not pulling away.

You let me be what I am in the moment,

and that’s enough to stay.

I don’t feel the need to perform,

or soften what’s already true.

There’s strength in the quiet of this,

in how it holds the room.

Some things don’t arrive loudly,

they don’t need a sign.

They settle in gently

and feel like time.

I like the way it moves between us,

steady, natural, aligned.

Like breathing without thinking,

like knowing without asking why.

And if this keeps unfolding

the way it’s been—

I don’t need to name it,

I’m already in.

No rush, no weight, no fear,

no need to make it prove itself.

What’s meant to last

doesn’t ask for help.

I like the way it moves between us,

soft but hard to deny.

Like something that’s been waiting

for the right moment in time.

And wherever this leads us,

I’m fine letting it choose—

I trust the way it feels,

I trust the way it moves.

(Outro: gentle hum, slow fade)