My Valentine

I gave you my heart too quickly, perhaps— but only because it recognized you before caution could intervene. There is something familiar in you. Not comfort, exactly, but recognition. As though we were shaped by similar storms, and learned the same defenses by different names. We are both stubborn. We both hesitate at the edge of devotion, circling what we want as though wanting were a risk in itself. And yet— what passes between us is not careful. There is a passion here that resists explanation, that lives in glances, in silence, in the gravity that keeps drawing us back. You call me crazy— but I know what you mean. I remind you of life, of motion, of the part of you that still reaches forward. And you steady me in ways I did not know to ask for. I want a future with you. Not one demanded, not one forced— only one allowed to grow if we are brave enough to remain. I love you. And though I am afraid of being hurt, I am willing— for once— to take the risk of loving without retreat. If this is the chance, then let it be known: I took it with my eyes open and my heart intact.