Sent your voice memo *late*—
         Jackets already up.

I whispered that hope
  that isn’t meant for daylight,
  then tried to take it back…

  “Don’t jinx it, Tj.”

Mr. Universe didn’t this time.

Georgia Tech over No. 12,
        third win,
        bright Monday coming—

        I won’t say “ranked,”
        I’ll just smile like I didn’t.

Glued to Rangers at Mets now,
      wildcard within arm’s reach.

Astros at the Braves tonight—
        a double “Go Braves!”
  whispered through a sleeve
       so luck can’t hear me.

Meanwhile you— (Mari, Mari, Mari)
          steady messages,
          a video memo that
          made the room heat up.

Everything feels good—
              so good
              I don’t
              want to
              name it.

Let’s keep it in lowercase,
           carry it softly…

       “Don’t jinx it, Tj.”

I’m packing the weekend with people—
                        Kev tonight,
                       Mom tomorrow,
  Ava whenever the hive lets her go.

Bonding by the handful,
        time spent like it matters.
                  (because it does)

Sunday will be loud at work—
       NFL flying,
       PrizePicks breaking,

       numbers climbing like summer heat.

By the time I look up,
      it’ll be Monday,
    and Monday is you,

    right where we left off.

So here’s the plan—
   cheer under my breath,
   hold joy like a secret,
   text you gently after the credits roll,

   and keep the best part quiet long enough to last.

I won’t say it out loud, not yet.

I’ll let the silence carry it—
     a held note,
       pocketed wish,
         small bright thing between us
               that knows its own name.