Love, Like Jones

It wasn't love at first sight, but something like jazz in dim light— smooth, improvised, a note bent just right. You walked in, and the room caught its breath. Not loud like thunder, but quiet like truth. You were everything the pen had been chasing. We weren’t perfect. We were poems in process, half-rhymed lines with hearts that stuttered before they spoke. You were blues, I was baseline. You were pages, I was the spine. We didn't fall, we *dove*. Eyes wide open, into verses made of us. Love wasn't always easy— but damn, it was real. It sat heavy on our chests and still asked us to breathe. So here's to us, to midnight coffee and Sunday rain, to the quiet kind of fire that doesn’t burn out— just simmers and stays.