Untitled

You look at me

like I don’t have to prove anything.

Like I don’t have to perform

or filter myself

or shrink into something easier to hold.

And that—

that is rare.

Because I’ve known what it feels like

to be misunderstood.

To be seen in pieces

instead of whole.

But with you—

there’s recognition.

Like you see me

and don’t flinch.

Don’t try to fix me.

Don’t try to reshape me.

You just… accept me.

And in return—

I find myself wanting

to give you the same.

To see you clearly.

To hold you honestly.

To love you

without trying to change you

into something easier.

Because you’re already

more than enough.