When You Look at Me Like That

A gaze that stays long after you look away.

There’s a kind of silence that only happens when your eyes meet mine—

not awkward, not empty, but full of something unspoken,

like a song we both know but never sing out loud.

It’s in the way your gaze lingers, as if trying to memorize

not just my face, but the space I take up in the world—

the shadow I cast at noon, the softness in my laugh,

the way I leave things half-finished when I’m excited.

And I wonder, quietly, if you know that when you look at me like that,

You are writing your name somewhere permanent

in the quiet corners of my life.