All this time,
    these nights,
    these moments…

    folded into each other—

And yet—
        somehow,

        only two *real* dates.

One planned,
    One perfected.

Marked on a calendar,
    dressed for the occasion,

    seated where the lighting was just right.

The rest?

Something else entirely.

Plans made,
      then unraveled.

Ideas set,
      then reshaped.

Somewhere to be,
    but somehow,

    always ending up just wherever we are.

And nothing about it—
                     feels wrong.

Because this—
        this is just how we work.

Not penciled in,
   not outlined,

   not stuck inside the frame of what’s expected.

We don’t need a reservation to make a night matter.

We just need…
             one another.