I keep counting birthdays
as if they are answers.
But time has never promised anyone another spring—
only that
it will keep blooming with or without us.
All my life,
I have been waiting with intention—
choosing carefully,
loving slowly,
hoping that when I decide
and my darling arrives,
they will know safety
I spent my whole childhood searching for.
There is a child I have loved for years.
The terrifying part is not that they do not exist—
it is wondering if I will run out of time
before they ever do.
And the cruelest thing about that
is not the hands on the clock that move.
But that one day,
you realize your dreams have started aging too.