Me and My Wild Boy

He belongs to the noise— to crowded rooms and spinning lights, to laughter that spills too far and never apologizes.

He is the story everyone tells when the night is almost over, the reason strangers lean closer, the reason joy feels easy again.

And somehow, he chose me to step outside with.

Me and my wild boy— his hands still warm from the world, his smile still careless with joy, like he never learned how to live halfway.

He looks at me like he sees something I thought I buried.

Not the careful girl. Not the quiet one. But the version of me that ran barefoot toward everything without asking if it would stay.

He brings her back slowly— the laugh that didn’t need permission, the heart that didn’t ask for safety, the girl who believed being alive was enough reason to be unafraid.

I forgot she was still there. But he finds her every time he says my name like it was never meant to be spoken softly.