The calm to my chaos

I am the storm that arrives without warning, all thunder and restless skies.

He is the stillness after. The kind that makes you believe the world was never breaking.

I am a thousand thoughts racing toward nowhere,

A heart that feels everything, too much, too soon, too deeply.

He is the quiet beside me, never asking the waves to stop, only reminding me that I know how to swim.

I am the fire, reckless, hungry, alive.

He is the earth beneath my feet, steady enough to let me burn, without letting me disappear.

I speak in unfinished sentences, in sudden laughter, in tears I cannot explain.

He understands the spaces between my words as though silence were a language we invented.

I am always becoming. 

Changing directions, questioning everything, running toward something I cannot name.

He doesn't chase me. He simply stays. He lets me be.

And perhaps that is why I always find my way back.

Not because he quiets my chaos.

Not because I disturb his calm.

But because somewhere between his stillness and my storm,

we found a place where neither of us had to become less to be loved.

I am the chaos.

He is the calm.

And somehow, when his hand finds mine, the storm inside me doesn't disappear.

It truly feels like home.