safety.

You nuzzled into my braids, and I was undone. Its one of my favorite kinds of touch- encircled in your arms, you holding me close. My muscles relaxed, the remaining tension from a long travel day lost, seeping out of my body. My curvature meeting yours. 

I closed my eyes, and let out a long sigh... I knew I was safe there. 

Do you know? Do you know you're safe here- with me?

You say these things. Little things. About your inabilities. To emote, to let someone in. Maybe to feel to a fuller capacity. Alarm bells ring in my ears- listen to what they are telling you. The absence of "feeling" is the presence of pain. 

I still don't want to fix you. Truly. 

I do want to hold space for you. Maybe even give you an inkling of what you've given me- 

hope. 

I'm beginning to dismiss time- its arbitrary to me now. I do feel like I'm getting to know you. Our shared experiences allowing for more insights into you. That being said, a line from Cinderella plays in the back of my head, "Am I making believe I see in you a (man) too perfect to be really true?" Perfect is a false construct, but I know why this phrase plays over and over in my brain. My mistake before has been to fall for potential. It's a reminder to ask myself- is that what's happening here?

I don't believe so. It goes back to the little things. The thoughtful gestures, touch. You're growing vocabulary with me. I feel, as well as see your efforts towards me. They aren't grand, obnoxious or overblown.  but I wouldn't want them to be. Things are being earned here. Trust- in both yourself, and me. 

I'm growing braver in my expression- not to force your hand, or create undue influence. I hope you know that. I trust you. It was there from the beginning. There was something innate here. I don't expect you to be the same. I'm constantly reminded I'm built just off of center. 

Maybe if I'm luckily, you are too.