The lock clicks. Effortlessly.
You don’t miss the train.
You find yourself shamelessly enjoying the stereotypes you once made fun of.
You feel ablaze, when you hold hands in the rain.
You turn into a bad poet, but he still falls for your poems.
When you are meant for each other,
the bruises don’t scare you;
they empower you.
You want to live, live more.
To bottle each other’s laughter.
To watch that sunset again.
Or smooth away that strand of hair,
Or see miracles happening everyday.
And when you wish the above or much, much more,
You are meant for each other.