one year of us. i can't wait for forever.

one year, and still my soul forgets to walk.

it floats, drunk on your name like a moth

spellbound by the soft-lit flame of your laugh.

i trace the echo in your blue eyes - those galaxies -

twin oceans where stars slip off their axis

just to swim in your gaze.

we are constellations tangled in morning sheets,

coffee steams like alchemy between us,

and even the silence is poetic with you.

each moment, every breath a prayer

to whichever dream conjured you from the dusk.

how foolish of me, believing that love had edges,

because you arrive and everything blooms.

daisies sprout from the pavement,

the air sings in colour,

and even the ducks in their pond paddle

in perfect synchronicity like feathered symphonies,

choreographed by the orchestra of our love.

your smile? tectonic.

a fault line tremor which splits me

with joy so loud, even the sky forgets its thunder.

it quakes through my ribs

unfurling laughter like ribbons of light,

like fireflies dancing to the heartbeat of summer.

you are my velvet blur between reason and reverie,

a spell bound in smiles and charm.

when you kiss me, clocks forget their language

and i forget mine -

except for the one that speaks your name.

even now, we speak in glances,

in the hush between storms,

in the rustle in the leaves which we have learned to mimic,

the sound of your hand in mine.

even the moon leans to listen in on our conversations.

"would you still love me if i were a duck?

only if i could be your pond."

one year of you and i am still 

awestruck, sun drunk, lost in the cathedral

of your presence. every second,

a stained glass miracle.

we have built heaven from the mundane -

ripped toast, tangled hair, sleepy hellos -

and called it home.

so let the world tilt on, wild and weary.

let it spin its chaos and chore.

i have found the eye of the storm

in your arms,

and i will live there

forevermore.

© anna marie atkinson, 2025

also from the lover girl collection