🌬️Seollem(설렘) | The First Flutter Before Touch

🌬️Seollem(설렘)

The White Cloth Lifted
The sea didn't begin it.
Nor the sun.
It was the way your hand hovered—
not touching yet—
but trembling near mine
like a thread pulled taut by wind.

There was salt on your wrist,
and light folded into your fingernails.
When your thumb grazed the side of mine,
it wasn’t contact—
it was permission,
like silk brushing breath,
asking if it might stay.

Inside my chest,
a bird fluttered—
not flying,
only learning how not to fall.
That was the moment:
before rhythm,
before decision—
a soft collapse into movement.

We stood,
not speaking.
The sea only watched.
And the sky opened
not like a door—
but like a held breath
released
at last.

🌬️Seollem(설렘)

The First Tremor of Being Chosen
There are moments that do not knock.
They arrive as breeze,
as pause,
as a hand that hovers beside yours
without claiming it.

I remember that beach not for its horizon,
but for how your palm
trembled closer—
like a sail catching the first sigh of wind.
It wasn't love.
Not yet.
It was the possibility of love—
folded, fragile,
quivering just under the skin.

Your touch didn’t land.
It floated.
It asked.
And in that quiet request,
my body leaned first—
not out of will,
but surrender.
As if every cell had waited
for a question only your fingers knew how to ask.

My balance shifted.
The tide didn’t pull me,
you did—
with the gravity of the almost.

That was the weight of seollem:
not in the touch itself,
but in the breath before it.
Not in the hand,
but in the air between.
Where silence
had a texture,
and the future
felt like it might
begin.