THE HAPPENING

 THE HAPPENING

You happened to me like a storm

Unannounced, sweeping through the quiet rooms

Of my solitary days,

Lightning in the veins, thunder in the chest—

A force that reshaped the skyline of my soul.

Not chosen, not sought,

But inevitable as gravity pulling tides,

You surged in, electric and alive,

And there you stayed, woven into the fabric

Of my every breath, my every beat.You were inside me like a pulse,

Steady, insistent, the rhythm beneath my skin

That keeps the body marching forward

Through the haze of half-awake dawns.

No grand symphony, no operatic swell,

Just the quiet thrum of existence shared—

A heartbeat synced to yours in the dim light

Of mornings blurred by steam from coffee mugs,

Where dreams dissolve into the grind of routine.While someone I learn to live with,

Not a stranger anymore, but a familiar shadow

Dancing in the corners of my cluttered life.

We navigate the ordinary miracles:

The sink full of dishes from hurried meals,

The way your socks tangle with mine in the drawer,

Learning the map of each other's silences,

The quirks that once amused, now anchor us.

You, the companion in the chaos,

Teaching me the art of coexistence,

Of bending without breaking in the winds of us.Do laundry around, folding the remnants

Of yesterday's wear into neat stacks,

The scent of detergent mingling with memories—

A shirt stained with wine from that laughing night,

Pants worn thin from walks under streetlamp glow.

These chores become our quiet rituals,

Threads stitching the days together,

Turning the mundane into a tapestry

Of shared burdens, lightened by your hands

Brushing mine over the warm tumble of clothes.Caffeine-assisted mornings, where the world

Sharpens into focus with each sip,

Steam rising like prayers for strength.

We stir spoons in tandem, half-asleep,

Exchanging groggy glances over the rim

Of mismatched cups, the kitchen lit

By the soft gold of sunrise sneaking through blinds.

These rituals fuel the engine of our hours,

Propelling us into the rush of what comes next—

Work calls, errands, the pull of separate paths

That somehow loop back to this shared start.And sometimes lists come before lust,

The practical parade of to-dos marching in,

Groceries, bills, appointments scrawled

On scraps of paper pinned to the fridge door.

Desire simmers on the back burner,

Patient as a pot waiting to boil,

While we check off boxes, tame the wild

Of daily demands that crowd the calendar.

Yet in the spaces between the lines,

Passion flickers— a stolen kiss amid the chaos,

A touch that promises more when the list runs dry.You happened to me, and in that happening,

We built a life from pulses and practicalities,

From the thunder of first encounters

To the steady rain of everyday love.

Not always fireworks, but the warm hearth glow

That sustains through storms and still mornings alike.

In you, I find the unexpected gift:

A rhythm that echoes my own,

Turning the ordinary into something profound,

Where even the lists hold a quiet poetry of us.