the first time I met Iris,
she walked into that bar like she owned the world.
red cheeks, pink lips,
a neon cardigan that made every guy turn.
I was one of them.
she laughed like she didn't need anyone.
and maybe that's what made me want her.
I liked girls who didn't chase.
I asked for her number.
she didn't give it.
she gave me a riddle and made me earn it.
I was hooked.
we dated.
slept together.
fell into patterns that felt like
something close to love.
and maybe it was.
but even then—
even when I was falling for her—
I never saw a house.
never saw a cat, a kid,
a Sunday morning with her in my shirt.
never saw a life.
not like I did with you.
you, Hazel,
you were the first time I imagined staying.
you were laughter with meaning,
silence with comfort.
you were cold nights with music,
and mornings with arguments about what makes a good book.
Iris was chaos.
and I thought I needed that.
but you?
you were peace.
and I was too stupid to know how rare that was.
so yes—
I was crazy about her.
but I never saw forever.
only with you.