You’ve never asked me for it, you’ve never used language to suggest that I need to be gentle with you.
So why, with every part of me, do I feel that I need to?
I walk on eggshells to please you, when you told me you love the person I am.
I am not scared that you will run.
Well, maybe just a little.
But more than that, I am trying to understand why you won’t let me love you in every way that I can.
Maybe you truly don’t want it.
But does that mean you lied when you said you love the way I do things?
I know how to recognize a lie in your eyes, and that was not one of them.
Do you fade from me because you don’t want to set expectations? Or because you are floating again, into that beautiful unreadable indifference of yours?
This is a space that I do not know, that I am never present for. You pull away, I feel your need for constant motion, and know I could never ask you to be still.
The fact that you return to me every time says much more than your intermittent lack of interest ever could.
Sometimes your motion frightens me. Maybe you will move too fast for me to see.
But too, it excites and offers room to grow that I would never have the willpower to create if you stayed.
Still, I am here to say that I will be your stability. If you want it, if you need it, and if you will have me.