Don't move away.
Not yet.
Stay right here—
where your presence
feels like something
I don't want to lose.
You always do this—
you come close,
then pull back
like you're afraid
of what might happen
if you don't.
But tell me—
what are you scared of?
That I'll see you clearly?
I already do.
That I'll want you more?
Too late.
That this might become real?
It already is.
Look at me.
No—
really look.
Do you see hesitation?
Because I don't.
I see someone
who already knows
this isn't just attraction.
This is something
that grows
every time you stay
a little longer than planned.
And I like you here.
Close enough
that I can hear
when your breathing changes.
Close enough
that silence
feels louder
than words.
Close enough
that if I reached out—
I'd have to decide
whether I'm ready
to cross that line.
And maybe…
I am.
But I won't rush it.
Because moments like this—
they deserve
to be felt fully.
Not stolen.
So stay.
Just a little longer.
Let this tension
tell you
what words haven't yet.