Your old hoodie smells like your shampoo and I keep it for emergency steadying.

You make a plain Saturday feel like the chorus of a song I want to replay.

You whistle that off-key line and it's the stupidest comfort I have.

I will always be the person who answers your 'are you awake?' text.

You left your scarf at my flat and I put it on the hook so it waits for you.

I feel proud in a quiet way when you tell someone my dumb story.

You send me bad photos of yourself and I tell you which ones are honest.

Your backpack strap always slips and I tighten it for you without being asked.

I love that you keep arguing with song lyrics and I keep listening.

You steal my fries and I let you, because that's our unofficial agreement.

That tiny bruise on your shin from running makes me check you gently.

When you cancel plans because you're tired, I understand and don't try to fix it.

You draw terrible doodles on napkins and I frame them in my head.

I want to be the person you call at 2 a.m. without thinking twice.

Your chipped mug says you drink coffee the same stubborn way every morning.

You send me a single word and I know whether to worry or celebrate.

I keep your receipt for the stupid candy you bought me and it makes me ridiculous.

You taught me one harmonies trick and I sing it on purpose now.

You leave the light on in the living room and I come back to that steady proof.

Hearing your laugh through the phone fixes the rest of the afternoon.

I still have the ticket stub from that terrible movie we both loved.

You answer my panic with an exact meme and I stop spiraling.

I want to learn your bad dance moves and make them honors, not jokes.

You text me spoilers with a wink and I forgive you instantly.

You make me promise to try new songs even when I'm scared of messing up.

Your late-night playlist taught me how to sit with quiet and not panic.

I get a calm, steady happiness when you send me a one-line voice note.

You leave your mug by the sink and it tells me you were here and that's enough.

I want to steal your terrible jokes and claim them as mine.

That cracked guitar pick you found is on my keyring and I touch it when I'm nervous.

You make ordinary errands feel like a chorus I can sing along to.

You know which bus to catch at midnight and that's the bravest thing I know about you.

I love the way you hum the bridge under your breath while cooking.

When I mess up a line, you clap louder than anyone and I breathe again.

Your thrift-store jacket smelled like rain and I kept it in my bag for days.

You make me want to learn an extra verse whenever you walk into a room.

I still have the setlist from our first gig, and I grin whenever I see your scribble on it.

I picture us still sending each other one-line check-ins that mean everything.

I want simple future mornings where you steal my cereal and I pretend to mind.

I'll keep offering to help paint rooms even when our arms are sore.