I don’t love slowly,
I step inside rooms
that might fall apart.
Barefoot on reasons,
I still walk forward,
even when it’s dark.
Questions keep me breathing,
an animal on my chest,
doesn’t know if it should run
or stay where it’s held.
My mind rewinds the silence,
every pause feels loud.
I read between the lines
that maybe were never there,
but still cut deep somehow.
心ごと 愛してしまう
こわれると知っていても
足が震えても 信じたい
ここにいてほしいだけ
I love with fear in my pocket,
of being too much to hold,
of asking without knowing
I’m already asking too close.
I learn your edges quietly,
like a sacred, fragile chart,
but while I’m caring for you
I make myself small.
Not jealous, just wondering,
“What did I miss this time?”
“When did I stop being enough
without saying goodbye?”
心ごと 愛してしまう
こわれると知っていても
選ばれたい 静かな日も
不器用な夜も
I don’t want perfect moments,
I want hands that stay.
Eyes that don’t look away
when I finally say
“I’m scared.”
I want a home, not promises,
presence, not plans.
To be chosen on days
when fear is heavier
than laughter in my hands.
半分の愛は知らない
軽くなんて なれない
一度壊れても
また信じる この手で
The way I love trembles,
but it’s real.
A heart on alert,
still open.
Like someone who broke once
and still chooses
to believe again—
with shaking hands.