I was nervous.

Of course I was.

Days apart,
     words held too carefully,
     the weight of not being able to hold

     what I never want to let go.

But then—
     her.

Sitting across from me,
        beer in hand,
        like the weekend

        hadn’t stretched so far.

Like this wasn’t
     some fragile,
     tentative thing

     that could break if I breathed wrong.

I was weird.

I knew it.

She probably knew it too.

But she didn’t flinch,
        didn’t let me

        fold into my own awkward edges.

Just easy.

Just comfortable.

Just her, making the world feel like it never stopped being ours.

And for the first time
        in days…

        I wasn’t waiting,
          wasn’t wondering,
          wasn’t trying to do everything (anything) right.

          Wasn't _trying_ at all.

I was just there.

And so was she.

And that was enough.