Here – Chandra Martin

By Chandra Martin
he slips past you at first
voice soft, careful
like he’s afraid
of taking up space

you don’t notice
until you do

the way he lingers
at the edge of things
as if waiting
to be told he can stay

you move closer

close enough
to catch the hesitation
in his breath

there is something in him
that doesn’t rest

not distance, not warmth
but a fragile in-between
that makes you want
to understand

you ask him small things

he answers
like each word
has to pass inspection

your hand brushes his
and he stills—

not pulling away
not leaning in

just… pausing
like he’s listening
for something in himself
that won’t speak

he wants connection
you feel it
in the way he stays

but something in him
keeps checking the exits

he looks at you
like a question
he can’t ask

and for a moment
you think
this is where it ends

but then

something shifts

not sudden
not certain

his hand finds yours
like he’s testing
what’s allowed

and when you don’t pull away

he exhales—
soft, unsteady

like a door
opening inward

he pulls you closer

not with confidence
but with need

his arms hesitate
before they settle

like they’ve never learned
how to hold
without letting go

but he does

he holds you

like he’s afraid
you might disappear

and for the first time
he doesn’t step back

he just stays

not certain
not whole

but here