Your Elbow on My Side

You sat too close, but said, “It’s fine”
That elbow touch, like crossing line
I moved a bit, but didn’t mind
Your laugh just leaned into mine
Your elbow on my side—don’t move
It fits just right, like morning groove
We didn’t plan this table dance
But I’m already lost in chance
Your breath was warm, your eyes half-closed
You said, “It’s cozy,” like you chose
You tilt your glass, then look away
But every glance, it wants to stay
You speak in shrug and casual grace
But everything says, “stay in this place”