It started so simply
Two people talking, for no particular reason, on an ordinary thirteenth of September. Nothing about it announced itself. It just quietly became the day I count every year from.
The first time I trusted you
It wasn't a big moment. It was a small one — you said you'd be there, and you were. You've been keeping that habit ever since, and I've never had to check.
Every ordinary evening since
Half of loving you is the quiet part: the texts about nothing, the same old jokes, the silences that don't need filling. That's the part I'd never trade.
Where we are now
Older by a year, surer by a lot. Whatever comes next, I already know who I'm walking towards it with.