I like going slow.
With you,
it doesn’t feel uncertain.
It feels intentional.
It feels like learning someone
without trying to rush
to the end of the story.
I’ve never really done this before—
taken my time,
let something unfold
without gripping it too tightly.
But slow doesn’t scare me.
It heals me.
It teaches me patience.
It teaches me presence.
It lets me enjoy what’s here
instead of racing toward what’s next.
And I’m not anxious here.
Because I’m not chasing you.
I’m choosing you.
There’s a difference.
Certainty, to me,
doesn’t mean a timeline.
It doesn’t mean pressure.
It doesn’t mean having everything figured out.
It just means alignment.
It means that while we’re taking our time,
we’re still growing toward
the same vision—
even if we’re walking there gently.
I can love you without rushing you.
I can grow beside you
without losing myself.
I just want slow
to mean we’re building something real.
Together.
Slow Burn Poetry 