can we talk
not the cute kind of talk,
not the “wyd, babe”
but the kind where my chest feels like a locked room
and I need you to sit with me in the dark.
’cause love looks easy on instagram,
filtered smiles,
matching outfits,
caption: us against the world.
but in real life?
it’s messy.
it’s me trying to unlearn the sharp edges my past gave me,
and you trying not to bleed from them.
can we talk about how sometimes
I don’t know how to let someone love me without fighting it first?
how silence feels safer than asking for what I need,
because asking feels like begging,
and I promised myself never to beg again.
can we talk
like really talk
about how love isn’t just the good mornings and good nights,
it’s the “I’m still here”
when the days stretch long and ugly,
when my voice shakes,
when yours does too.
’cause I don’t need perfect.
I just need real.
I just need us
to choose each other out loud,
even on the days it’s not easy.