Moonstruck Pulse

We meet where midnight hums,

beneath street lamps soft as breath.

Your shadow melts into mine—

two outlines learning how to hold each other again.

Your voice is low,

a quiet spark against the cold,

pulling me in like gravity disguised as a smile.

You always knew how to tilt the world—

how to make silence feel like a dance.

There’s a rhythm in your heartbeat,

steady, stubborn, unforgettable.

Every time you step close,

it syncs with mine like it never learned to stop.

I look at you

and see the version of me

that only exists in your eyes—

braver, softer, certain.

We talk about nothing and everything,

letting our words drift upward

like smoke from a neon dream.

And I wonder—

if we kissed right now,

would time pause,

or would it finally begin?

Because you…

you are a moonstruck pulse—

a quiet electricity,

a glow that never dims,

a beat that knows my name.

And somewhere between your laugh

and the way your fingers brush mine,

I realize:

I never stopped choosing you.

— Orielle